


The Winter Knight

by hilaryfaye



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, High Fantasy, Other, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-12 23:32:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1204612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hilaryfaye/pseuds/hilaryfaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The age of the great mages has passed, and Midorima would be just as content to be left to her studies, secluded in an abandoned castle where she's dwelt for over a century, charting the stars and watching the seasons. But winter comes too hard, too fast, and the stars are not where they ought to be. </p>
<p>And a young woman on a quest to save her kingdom will draw Midorima out of isolation, and into the middle of a war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I.

The mage lowered her spyglass, frowning at the stars, and making a note on her parchment. She had charted the stars every night for nearly a century, and things were not as they should have been.

A star that should not have been visible shown brightly in the sky, just south of where the moon hung in a waning crescent.

Her breath fogged in the cool air as her pen scratched, a spell the only thing keeping the ink from freezing. Winter was moving in with an unusual ferocity, and icicles longer than Midorima was tall stretched from the edges of her castle. The cats and owls and bats that frequented her home huddled in the warmest corners, and it was all that she could do to keep the castle warm enough to be bearable.

Whatever king had built the castle was long since gone to dust, his name forgotten, the books of his library replaced by Midorima's own, and the gold and trappings of royalty looted decades before her arrival. All that had remained when she arrived was stone.

For years that no one but Midorima had concerned themselves to count, she had worked in solitude, following the movements of the heavens, and the tides of the seasons, as the world passed by around her. It was as she wished it to be.

She had no more use for kingdoms and their doings. If any remembered that she or her castle existed, they left well enough alone--though Midorima supposed that the forest was more than enough of a deterrent. The dark that filled those woods, and the wolves that howled at night, would keep away most curious visitors.

Gleaning no more information from the night sky to explain this anomaly, Midorima collected her parchments and moved inside, torches flaring to life before her and sputtering out as she passed. A tabby cat trailed along at her heels, mewing.

Why they paid attention to her, Midorima could not fathom. She did little except ignore the cats that had joined her home. The only thing she appreciated about them was that their presence kept the mice from getting to her books.

Midorima moved to her library, laying out her parchments as a roaring fire burst to life in the hearth, though the cold still stung at her nose. The tabby rubbed around her ankles, purring.

A hundred years charting the stars, and she'd never seen an anomaly like this. A hundred years living in this castle, and she'd never seen a winter this fierce. Something was amiss in the world outside, enough to reach her even here.

Midorima was consulting her old star charts when the tabby hissed and scurried away. She frowned, and went to the window, which was shuttered against the cold. She pried open the shutters and peered out into the dark. Clouds had begun to move in and cover the stars, but her gaze went down to the forest.

The wolves were howling again, louder than usual.

Midorima picked up her wool cloak, pulling it over her robes. Normally she'd let intruders discover their own mistakes--but even she was not going to let someone be hunted.

She didn’t care to have the wolves leave any grisly remains for her to find when she went out into the forest for something.

She took a torch from the wall and stepped out onto the sill of the window. Below her stretched ice-covered stone and the grounds of the castle, the world wrapped in snow. Looking again to where the light of a fire flickered through the trees, some half a mile out from her home, Midorima stepped into the night air, and fell to the treetops, landing without so much as a rustle of the branches.

She stepped over the scraggly branches of trees that had lost their leaves weeks before, and the frost-coated pine needles of others, using the canopy of the forest as her road. The howling of the wolves led her to where they circled, darting at the edges of the firelight, where their prey was standing with sword drawn, shouting.

"Well? Are you going to do anything?!"

Midorima frowned. Bold fool, she thought, pausing in the branches of a fir to watch, holding her torch aloft. And just who had come all this way to camp in her forest, without even a horse?

The wolves snarled and flicked their ears. They knew that Midorima was close by, even if this stranger did not.

The wolves never ventured near Midorima's castle, they were wary of magic. Animals, much more so than people, were sensitive to such things.

Her presence made them uneasy, not the least because she so rarely ventured beyond the walls of the castle.

The stranger turned, watching the wolves, and Midorima felt her eyebrows rise in mild surprise. A young woman with golden hair stood in the firelight, watching the wolves with very little fear in her eyes. She wore a tunic and trousers, knee high leather boots, and a belt where her sword hilt hung.

The wolves snarled and whined, growing only more and more upset the longer Midorima stayed where she was.

Sighing, Midorima stepped down from the tree, falling gently to the forest floor. The wolves fell silent and retreated into the dark.

The woman lowered her sword. She had her back to Midorima,  and hadn't noticed her yet. She laughed uneasily, sheathing the sword. "Wonder what drove them off..."

"They don't like magic," Midorima said.

The woman whirled, drawing her sword again. There was fear in her eyes now. "Who are you?"

"The lady of the lands that you're currently trespassing on," Midorima replied. She studied the woman a moment, and smelled the smoke from the fire--there was more smoke than flame: the wood had been too wet to properly burn. "And you?"

"Kise."

"Well, Kise, you had best come with me, unless you'd like the wolves to come back the moment I leave." She extended her hand.

She expected Kise to hesitate. To be wary of her.

Instead, she smiled brightly, sheathed her sword, and grasped Midorima's hand without another word. Midorima blinked, then looked skyward, climbing back up to the treetops. Kise made a surprised sound and clutched Midorima's arm. Midorima alighted at the top of a fir, letting Kise have a moment to catch her bearings.

"What--what are you?" Kise asked. "A witch?"

"Were I witch, I'd use a broom." Midorima stepped out into open air, walking across the canopy of the forest with Kise in tow. "I call myself a mage."

"A mage," Kise whispered, still clutching Midorima's arm in a painfully tight grip. "And those wolves--they answer to you?"

"No, they distrust me." Midorima held her torch aloft and the pair climbed through the air to the window of the library, where Midorima helped Kise down onto the floor, and then shuttered the window once again. The torch drifted to its place on the wall.

When she turned, Kise was looking around her library in awe. The shelves upon shelves of aged books seemed to amaze her. "Have you read all these?"

"I wrote a good many of them. Come, now, you must need a place to sleep."

"I couldn't possibly sleep after all that!" Kise smiled. "How long have you lived here? I didn't even know there was a castle out in these woods."

Midorima stared at her a moment, wondering just what it was that made this woman so suddenly at home in her study.

"Long enough," Midorima replied. She wasn't used to being questioned. She flicked her wrist, and candles flared to life around them. Kise looked around in surprise.

"This place must be ancient," she said.

"It was long since abandoned when I came upon it," Midorima replied, beginning to pack her books away. Time had taught her to be wary of strangers near her books. Too many fools tried to do things they shouldn't--it was largely for that that she had sought out solitude.

She watched Kise with a cautious eye. "And what does a knight such as yourself do to end up in those woods at night?"

"Oh, um--I'm not--I'm not a knight." Kise's face went pink. "But I'm on a quest."

Midorima rolled her eyes. "Haven't quests gone out of fashion yet?"

Now Kise looked offended. "It's a very important quest!"

"They always are." Midorima carried an armful of books and scrolls to the shelves. "What's this one? Slay a dragon? Rescue a girl in a tower? Retrieve a lost artifact for a king?"

"Don't be dumb, no one locks princesses in towers anymore." Kise folded her arms across her chest, sulking.

"You'll have to forgive me, I'm a little out of touch." Midorima shoved her books away, and clucked her tongue, coaxing out the cat that had been hiding under the desk Kise was currently leaning on. The cat--white as snow--bolted from his hiding spot, and Kise jumped.

"For the record, I'm reclaiming m--a crown. A throne, more accurately."

"Ah. Politics." Midorima reached down to stroke the white cat, and glanced at Kise. "You can stay here for tonight--but you must leave tomorrow morning. I'll have nothing to do with quests."

Kise mumbled something at her back, rubbing at her eyes.

#

Midorima stayed up long into the night, brooding. It had been years since she actually needed to sleep--such a frivolity got in the way of her studies.

It had been even longer since she last had a guest.

There were reasons for that, of course--Midorima did not generally care for guests. They were intrusive, obnoxious, and far too demanding.

But Kise seemed... well. Kise was odd, that was all Midorima could say for certain. A woman-who-was-not-a-knight travelling alone through woods she was not familiar with, on a quest to reclaim someone's throne. 

Midorima had never paid much attention to the goings on the outside world. What did not concern the stars, or the forest, did not concern her. Kings could rise and fall as they would, so long as Midorima was left to her own devices, she did not much care.

But something bothered her about the timing of Kise's arrival, and the anomaly that had been that bright star in the sky.

 _Perhaps_ , Midorima thought warily,  _perhaps_ she _has something to do with this._

The seasons had turned to winter far too soon this year. And the stars... Midorima would not put it past her to send a message that Midorima would surely notice. That she had amassed the power, in the centuries since Midorima had last seen her, was not hard to believe.

And if she was responsible for it, then she would not be kind if Midorima remained in her castle, unmoved.

When the sun rose, weak winter light glittering off of the snow, Midorima was at Kise's door. She brought with her what breakfast she could offer--sausage and fried bread, berries saved from winter's chill, and water as clear as crystal.

Kise was... still asleep.

Midorima hovered in the door as Kise snored, growing more and more impatient with each passing minute. She had things that needed to be done, decisions that needed to be made.

Most importantly, she had questions for Kise about this quest.

"Wake up!" Midorima finally snapped, startling Kise awake. She slammed the breakfast tray on the bedside table, and folded her arms over her chest. "I have questions for you."

Kise rubbed her eyes. "Questions?"

"Concerning the throne that was stolen. The one you seek to reclaim. When was it taken?"

Kise blinked at her. "Earlier this year."

Midorima had been afraid she'd say that. "And you seek to restore the rightful heir."

Kise nodded.

"All by yourself?"

Kise went red. "No. There's a band of knights, knights who are still loyal to my--my king. I have to find them."

"Does your king still live?"

"No. But his daughter does, and she is the rightful queen. She sent me to reclaim the throne." Kise sat up, picking over the breakfast Midorima had brought. "Why do you want to know all of this?"

Midorima went to the window, looking down on the forest. It was snowing again, and she had the sickening feeling that this winter would only grow worse, and last longer than it should.

"How did you come to this forest?"

Kise hesitated before she answered. "I... I followed a bear."

Midorima turned, frowning at her. "A bear?"

Kise seemed deeply embarrassed. "I thought she was... she was a spirit. A huge bear, bigger than any I'd ever seen. And her eyes were the color of violets. She led me to the forest but I--I lost sight of her."

Midorima's stomach sank. Oh. Oh no. "She was not a spirit, but I know who sent her."

"Someone sent her?"

"Yes, someone I hope you never run afoul of." Midorima shuttered the window. "And it seems she wishes me to accompany you on your quest."

"Wait, I thought you said you wouldn't have anything to do with--"

"That was before I realized what forces were at work." Midorima looked at her guest. "Do you wish for my accompaniment, or do you suppose you and a ragtag band of knights shall be enough to reclaim a throne?"

"They're not ragtag!" There were tears in the corners of Kise's eyes. "And they're all I have!"

Midorima was, at best, uncomfortable with displays of emotion like that. She looked away. "Well, now you'll have a mage. And surely that's worth something." She turned. "I'll be making preparations for our departure. Please, enjoy your breakfast."

“I don’t even know your name.”

Midorima paused in the door, her back still to Kise. “My name is Midorima,” she said.

#

The problem was not so much what Midorima would take with her, but what she could bear to leave. She had not left her castle in a great many years, and she did not care for the thought of leaving it unattended, of leaving all her decades worth of work remaining where she could not watch over it.

Much of her morning was spent putting wards over the castle grounds, rendering her already hard-to-find home invisible to all but the most powerful mages.

Even within the castle, she took care placing wards, hiding her library and her many work rooms, and protecting her books jealously. She didn't know how long she would be gone, and though Kise was the first visitor to come near her castle in perhaps forty years, she did not care to think what might happen to her things if the place was discovered while she was absent.

 _If only she had given me more warning,_  Midorima thought, eyeing the icicles hanging from the castle walls.  _If only she were clearer in her messages. I'd have been ready._

And that bear--ha! Trust her to drag that out again. Akashi never could let anything be.

Certain at last that she'd concealed her castle as well as she could, without placing such a dome of magic over it that every mage in a hundred miles would be able to smell it, Midorima returned to do her packing.

She packed only a few changes of clothes, and a freshly bound book, the pages still blank. She thought, perhaps, that recording the events of this quest might prove useful to her later. She would write an accurate history, if it proved as important as the signs would seem to signify.

She tucked her back under a cloak as dark green as the pine needles under winter sunlight, and went to find her guest.

Kise was in the center of a mass of cats, stroking each one and cooing at them as they nuzzled up to her. “Are you ready to depart?” Midorima asked.

“Will the cats be okay if we leave them here?” Kise asked. “Will they have anything to eat?”

“I’ve never fed them. They live off of mice and birds--they will be just fine in my absence.” Or at least, no worse off than any other creature in this forest. Midorima tipped her chin up, waiting as Kise stood, adjusting her sword belt and tightening the fastenings of her deep blue cloak.

“Why are you coming with me?” Kise asked. “You said there were… forces at work? And who sent the bear?”

Midorima led her to the front gates. “Someone far more powerful than you or I.” Midorima’s mind went back centuries, recalling things she had not spoken of since they happened. “An old friend of mine.”

“An old friend--?”

“And what exactly happened, that you’re on this quest?” Midorima interrupted. “What enemy stole this throne that you want to reclaim?”

Kise was quiet for a moment. “A dragon,” she said at last, “and a witch.”

Midorima looked heavenward, at the snow falling around them. “A dragon. It has been a long time since they ventured here.”

“She came with the witch, and they killed my king, and took the kingdom for their own. The knights were either killed or driven out.”

“And you believe the knights you look for still live.”

“I have to believe they do.”

They stood before the gates. Midorima lifted her hand, and for the first time in many years they creaked open, to the forest beyond. They dragged through the heavy mounds of snow, leaving sweeping tracks as Midorima and Kise passed through--only to creak shut once more.

Kise turned to look over her shoulder and made an alarmed sound. “The castle! It’s gone!”

“I assure you it’s still very much there.” Midorima picked up her walking stick from where it had been hidden many years before. “But no one will find it until I return.” She looked to Kise. “I can lead you out of the forest--but after that, you will have to take us where you mean to go.” It had been too long for any of Midorima’s memories of the surrounding country to mean much.

Kise nodded, and drew in a breath. “Let’s go then.”

Midorima nodded and turned toward the forest, slogging through the snow with her head held high. The trees took notice of the mage and the knight, and whispered to themselves.

 


	2. II.

Night found them still within the forest, and Midorima listened to the trees as Kise tended their fire. She could not hear their whispers so well as other mages she had known, but it was enough.

“Will the wolves come back?” Kise watched her from where she crouched next to the fire, warming her hands.

“No. They will stay well away from me.” She cocked her head to the side, and raised her eyes to the night sky, a frown creasing her face.

“What is it?” Kise asked.

“The trees are uneasy about the stars.”

Kise looked at her like she’d lost her mind, but Midorima ignored that. She had a long time ago grown used to the way she sounded to others.

Midorima stood, craning her neck to see better. She rummaged through her bag and got out her notebook and pen, wishing for all the world she had her telescope.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Midorima told Kise, and launched up into the canopy of the forest, seating herself on a branch of fir while she worked, taking down notes on the stars positions, her frown deepening as she worked.

She did not like this at all.

The anomalous star that had convinced her to join this quest had moved halfway across the heavens--not even in the direction it should have been going--if there was anything, at this point, it should have been doing.

“Um, not to interrupt whatever you’re doing,” Kise called from down below, “but do you think you should eat something?”

“And what could you possibly have that I would want to eat?” Midorima inquired. “Scorched hare? You’ll find I can go for quite some time without food.”

“That can’t be good for you.”

“Over extended periods, no, but for tonight it will do.”

Kise huffed. “I don’t see what the point of you coming is if all you’re going to do is look at the stars.”

“The point,” Midorima snapped, “is that the state of the heavens tells us a great deal about the state of the world. Things are happening in the stars that I can’t explain, and I was watching the sky when your grandfather was wetting his pants!” She snapped her book shut and descended from the treetops. “Everything I do has a point.”

Kise looked away as Midorima stepped to the ground. She clearly didn’t like being yelled at.

Midorima shook out her blankets. “I will eat in the morning, if there’s anything worth eating.”

“Did the stars tell you anything useful?”

“Nothing you would understand.”

Kise sniffed and laid out her blankets, turning pointedly away from Midorima, who wondered if that was supposed to offend her.

Midorima kept watch that night, and would not look at Kise.

#

Midorima spied the bear just as dawn crept over the horizon. She would have known her anywhere, bigger than any bear had a right to be, with heavy dark fur, and eyes as purple as violets.

Midorima stood, without waking Kise, and walked out into the brush to greet the bear.

The bear regarded Midorima for a moment, pausing as she recognized the mage.

“Good morning, Murasakibara,” Midorima said. “It has been a long time.”

The bear huffed, breath fogging on the cold air, and stood up on her hind paws, and as she straightened the fur shifted into a huge bearskin cloak, and Murasakibara Atsushi stared down at Midorima. She was a huge woman--enough to make one believe in giants. “Mido-chin.”

“Akashi sent you, didn’t she?”

“Do you have any food, Mido-chin?”

Ugh. Of course. How could she have forgotten--even in a hundred years--that Atsushi never answered any questions unless she was given food--preferably sweets. “Just a moment,” she said, and went to dig through her supplies, finding at last dried candied apples, which she hoped would serve.

She knew better than to give Atsushi all of them at once. “Did Akashi send you?” Midorima asked again.

Shrug. As close to a yes as Midorima was likely to get. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s seen you, Mido-chin.”

“I’ve been concerned with my studies.” She gave Atsushi another candied apple. “What about this winter? Is that her work?”

“Whose work?”

“Akashi.”

“I think so.”

Getting answers out of Atsushi was like convincing a mule to cooperate.She was a brilliant mage, but the sun would go dark before she said a long sentence. Midorima felt the apples dwindling. “Murasakibara, is this about a dragon?”

“Dragon?”

Midorima swallowed down a curse, and closed her eyes. “Never mind. Why are you here?”

Midorima heard Kise give a cry of surprise, and could have killed her in that moment. Atsushi looked over Midorima’s shoulder, and sank again to all fours, becoming once more the bear she spent so much time as, and lumbering away through the snow.

“We have to follow her,” Kise said, stumbling out of her blankets and reaching for her sword belt. “We have to see--”

“She’s not going to lead you anywhere,” Midorima snapped. “I was speaking to her, before you butted in.” She rubbed her temples, cursing her luck. “And now she’s gone.” Already the huge bear had vanished into the early morning shadows, and there was no making Murasakibara come back when she had chosen to leave.

Kise sat, hesitantly. “She’s not a spirit, is she?”

“She might as well be, these days. She spends more time as a bear than as a person.” Midorima sat, missing her castle. “She never did much like being a mage.”

The sky grew lighter, and the birds began to sing. Midorima extinguished the coals of their fire, kicking snow over the ashes. Kise brushed her hair until it gleamed, and bound it up behind her head in a ponytail.

“Tell me more about this dragon and witch who took your kingdom,” Midorima said as they walked. “Where did they come from?”

“From beyond the mountains,” Kise said. “Or at least the dragon did. The witch… I knew her.” Kise wouldn’t look Midorima in the eye.

“She was your friend?”

“Something like that.” Kise’s hand rested on the hilt of her sword. “But the dragon came, and now they sit on my king’s throne.”

Midorima considered this. “How big is the dragon?”

“Huge,” Kise replied, “She barely fits within the walls of the throne room, and from nose to tail she’s as long as the tallest tower is high.”

That meant little to Midorima, but it was enough. An old drake, then--one who would be wily with age.

“And black,” Kise added, “black as obsidian.”

Midorima stopped and stood, staring at Kise. A black dragon, old. Kise gave her a questioning look.

“And what color were her wings?” Midorima asked.

“Red,” Kise said, puzzled that she asked, “as old blood.”

Midorima bowed her head a moment, pressing a hand over her mouth. “Ah.”

“Does that mean something?” Kise looked worried.

“I’ve… heard stories. But nothing more than stories.” Midorima raised her head, and picked up her walking stick. She would not stand still while she talked of such things.

“Even when I was young they were only whispers. Of a black fire drake, with bloody wings, who lived in the foothills of the mountains, with an evil mage of uncounted years.” Midorima’s fingers curled tightly around her walking stick. “I was told of vast swaths of land that taken by them--first the dragon’s fire, and then the mage’s spiders.”

“Spiders?” Kise asked, shuddering. “You mean the old spider witch? My mother used to tell me stories about her.”

“Is that what they call her these days?” Midorima’s face was grim. “I had the misfortune of meeting her, once.”

Kise looked up as if to ask a question. Midorima grasped her upper arm in a strong grip. “I tire of walking,” she said, and pulled them both to the treetops. Kise shrieked, clinging to Midorima’s side.

“I will never get used to that!” she gasped, her fingers digging into Midorima’s arm as Midorima carried them both over the forest.

Behind them, a pack of wolves howled.

“I thought you said they would stay away,” Kise said.

“We are not on the forest floor. As far as they are concerned, I’ve left.” Midorima looked over to Kise. “And which way shall I go?”

Kise looked, seemingly unaware that she was likely to tear Midorima’s arm off if she didn’t loosen up her grip. “East,” she said. “My kingdom is to the east.”

#

A slow and broad river that Midorima remembered wound it’s way through the hills, and on it’s banks sat a small village. It was at an inn there that Midorima and Kise stayed the night--sharing a dinner of hot stew and beer next to the fire.

Midorima spoke to no one, frowning as she tried to puzzle out of the turns of phrase she didn’t recognize, to place the villages whose names she didn’t know. She no longer knew what people meant when they spoke of kingdoms, of lords.

Kise, however, seemed to have everyone charmed. They responded to her smiles, her pretty face. She asked after her band of knights, and when she did, the people she asked grew quiet.

“They were forced to run, you know,” one man said in a low voice. “By that dragon, and the witch.”

“Yes, I know,” Kise said, “but I must find them, I have an important message for them.”

“I’ve heard strange things about them,” another woman said. “That two of them are more spirit than knight, they say one of them can turn into a tiger.”

“But have you heard where they might be?” Kise pressed, and Midorima stood.

A few people looked at her as she moved to the door, notebook tucked under her arm, but no one truly paid her much mind. She stepped out into the street, slick with snow crushed under boot heels, and moved away from the glow of the windows.

The sun had gone down, and the village had become quiet. The river whispered against the ice that tugged at it’s edges. Midorima hugged her arms over her chest, and shivered.

At the inn, what Midorima had been able to understand was that the country folk were wary of this winter--of how suddenly it had come and how harsh it promised to be. They worried over their harvest stores, wondering if the food they had would be enough, and if it wasn’t--would there even be game in the forests?

Midorima did not know, but she had recognized the pang in Kise’s eyes as they heard these worries. Kise feared for them.

Midorima looked toward the heavens, frowning once more at the stars. “You know,” she said to the night air, “you could have sent a messenger. There was no need for all this.”

An owl bellowed somewhere across the river, and the wind rustled the trees. Midorima took her notes on the night sky, rubbing at her nose as it ran in the cold. When she returned to the inn, her hands were red and numb, and pained her as she warmed them at the fire. She hadn’t dared risk creating a flame in the street as she worked--better that the villagers did not know they had a mage among them. They spoke too harshly of witches.

Kise was talking to an elderly woman near the hearth, asking what she had heard about the “pretenders” who sat on the throne.

“...the dragon never leaves the castle walls,” the old woman told her, “but the witch---they say she can see what comes, that she can look in a bowl of water and see tomorrow.”

Kise looked stricken.

Midorima went back to the door, ignored by everyone, and drew two fingers across the width of the frame, murmuring under her breath. No witch would be spying on her while she was here. “Kise,” she said, in a low voice. “I think it best we do not linger in this village too long.”

Kise nodded.

#

They had little money, and so Midorima and Kise shared a tiny room with only one bed. Midorima put wards around the inn, murmuring to the very wood to hide them from sight.

“She’ll send soldiers after us,” Kise said, hugging her knees to her chest. “If she already knows we’re coming.”

“Then you had best pray she has not thought to look for you.” Midorima shuttered the windows tight. “And if she has, pray that my presence has given her a blindspot.” She loosed her hair from it’s braid, running her fingers through it, pausing when she noticed Kise staring at her.

“Thank you for coming,” Kise said. “I don’t like being alone.”

Midorima looked away, brushing stray pine needles and such from her hair. She left her shoes at the foot of the bed, and settled in, pulling the too-thin blanket nearly to her neck. Kise brushed her hair as well, and shivered when she got under the blanket, wriggling closer to Midorima for warmth.

“We should leave in the morning,” Midorima said, “and be well away from here by sundown. I will do my best to keep any watchful eyes away from us… but my wards may draw just as much attention to us.”

Kise said nothing, and when Midorima turned her head to look at her--Kise was already asleep. Midorima sighed, snuffing out the candle with a wave of her hand.

She lay in the dark, thinking of her castle, and of Murasakibara still in the woods somewhere, only ever answering to Akashi. Kise sighed and wriggled up against her shoulder, breathing where Midorima’s collar opened to her throat. Midorima felt her face go red, though she knew there was no reason she should be embarrassed when it was so cold.

She wriggled her arm so it was under Kise’s head instead of trapped at her side. She would accommodate Kise’s want for warmth, but she was not going to wake up with a dead arm.

And, though she thought it unwise, she slept.

She dreamt of spiders.

#

Dawn came late, and by the time the sun crested the horizon, Midorima and Kise were leaving the village behind them.

Midorima had mercifully woken long before Kise, so she was able to worm her way out of bed and not be caught as she had been--with her arm wrapped around Kise’s shoulders and her chin tucked into that nest of blond hair. It had been over a century since she last shared a bed--she hadn’t thought she’d missed it.

By the time Kise woke, Midorima had procured breakfast for the both of them, and filled their bags with what food the villagers could spare for them--some salted pike, some bread, and a jar of cider. It would be enough to get them through a few days, and Midorima was certain she could find other things along the way.

She would not have left her castle just to starve.

They were headed to the south--what little information Kise had been able to get about the knights she sought all pointed toward the southern edge of the kingdom.

Kise talked about her plan as they walked, Midorima keeping a ward over their heads. "If we find them, we can go back to the castle, and take it back."

"With only a handful of knights?"

"And a mage," Kise replied. "You said that had to count for something.” She paused, and added, “It only takes one sword to slay a dragon."

"I suppose you expect me to handle the witch."

"It seemed like something you could do."

Midorima sighed, and glanced at Kise. "If you get me killed, I shall never forgive you."

Kise smiled, holding up a branch for them to duck under. "They say it's an honor to die on a quest."

"I don't know who they are, but they need to reevaluate their priorities. Honor means little to a graveworm." Midorima tapped the side of a tree with her walking stick, trying to take the measure of this forest. The whispers seemed even harder to hear, and she could not quite guess why.

"And what will you do to make me feel your wrath if you die?" Kise was giggling now, and Midorima would not admit even to herself that it was good to see her lighthearted.

"I'm sure I will think of something." Midorima glanced at Kise, noticing a peculiar smile on Kise's face. "What?"

"Nothing." Kise glanced up at the sound of a blue jay. "I don't suppose you can fly us south?"

"If you would like me to drop dead halfway there, by all means." Midorima rolled her eyes heavenward. "I can either hide us from the sight of your witch, or I can get us there quickly. I cannot do both--and as it is, hiding us is enough of a tax on my strength. We would do well to keep away from villages, if we can help it. It is harder to find someone in the wilderness."

Midorima did not mention to Kise why it was that the wards put such a strain on her. Had it just been the witch, she might have been able to handle it--but by the pricking on the back of her neck, Midorima knew.

It was not just Kise's witch who was looking for them.

And that, she thought, might be why the trees were so quiet.

 


	3. III.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: somebody gets eaten by the dragon

The witch had been gazing at the mirror in her hands for some time, its silver edges scorched and blackened where her hands touched it. The glass showed only smoke, and ice, till she thrust the mirror away in disgust. It clattered across the floor with a hollow sound, the glass showing only the ceiling now.

She stood and went to the window, the snow flying from the sill with a wave of her arm.

So the very earth itself rebelled against her. Let it--so long as the old drake was content to be fed cattle, and drain barrels of ale, the crown would rest on her head. She had taken this kingdom for her own.

Momoi donned a heavy cloak of white furs, and descended to the courtyards below. Filthy, half-melted snow covered the grounds, patches so slick from the weight of boot heels that they gleamed like glass. Icicles hung from the walls.

The dragon was not present, just then. Content to be fed on fat cattle or not, Imayoshi grew restless, and would fly out over the kingdom, hunting. 

Momoi was not so certain that they didn’t do it just to make the peasants fear them more.

Sometimes Lady Sakurai went with them, being that she was the only person within the castle walls, besides Momoi, who did not fear the old dragon. The lady, who had seemed so timid before, had taken to Imayoshi almost immediately, and the pair had hardly been separated since.

As Momoi passed, the lords and ladies of the court bowed and curtsied, murmuring, “your grace,” and “your majesty,” and never daring to meet her eye. She passed them with hardly a glance, her mind elsewhere.

They had not yet found the princess, and so long as she eluded Momoi, she was a threat. What trouble she might be stirring up, Momoi could only guess, and she did not like to guess. She needed information.

That the princess was so impossible to find could only mean that she had help, and that in itself was troubling.

“Your Majesty.”

Momoi glanced up. “Ah. Daiki.”

Aomine was the captain of her guard, the first knight who had forsaken the old king, and chosen instead to live under Momoi’s rule. They had been friends since they were children, and Aomine was still loyal to her. Momoi well knew what many others thought of this, and the venomous glares that came to Aomine’s back. Oh, they hated Aomine almost as much as they hated her.

But they feared Momoi more.

“Is there any word, Your Majesty?” Aomine was eager to hear about the missing princess. There was an old rivalry there, Momoi knew, and a need for certainty.

“None,” Momoi said irritably. “The mirror shows me nothing.”

That shocked Aomine, and Momoi had no time for explanations. “And your search party?” she asked. “Have they found those who escaped?”

“I’ve not heard any word, Your Majesty.” Aomine bowed her head. “But when I do, I will report to you immediately.”

“I expect you will.” Momoi looked skyward, and made an exasperated sound. “When Imayoshi returns, tell them I would speak with them.”

If she could not find Kise with the mirror, she would resort to other means.

#

The trees grew so densely together that no snow touched the ground, though a rime of frost still covered the trees, and it was as gloomy as twilight. Midorima leaned against a tree trunk, drawing in a breath. “You’re sure this is the way we should go?” She could not tell north from south, or east from west.

“Yes, the villagers said this was the fastest way.” Kise looked at her, worry in her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. I’m just--tired.” She was exhausted. They were being hunted, and it was all Midorima could do to keep watchful eyes away from them. Whoever was searching was very, very curious. She leaned heavily on the tree a moment more, and then pushed away. “You will have to guide, I can hardly think.”

Kise pulled Midorima’s arm around her shoulders. Midorima blinked at her, surprised, but Kise wasn’t looking at her. She had a look of grim determination on her face. “The villagers warned me about this forest,” she said, “but I thought it was superstition. I’ll get us out of here as fast as I can.”

Midorima only nodded. Had her mind been clearer, she might have asked what Kise meant about being warned. As it was, she was drawing on the last of her energy to keep the wards up. When they slept, she could make a stationary one that wouldn’t drain her so much, but travelling was a much different matter.

Kise glanced at her, and stopped, helping Midorima sit on a fallen log. “You should rest.”

“It won’t help us at all to linger here.”

“No, but you’re dead on your feet. There must be something we can do to--” Kise stopped, turning with her hand on the hilt of her sword. “Did you hear that?”

Midorima had.

A laugh. Not one Midorima had ever wanted to hear again.

She struggled to her feet, staring through the trees with bleary eyes.

“Your wards don’t hide you from the human eye, you know.” The voice came from every direction, hiding the location of the speaker. “You can let them down. No outside seekers will see you here--you’re just drawing attention to yourself.”

Midorima didn’t need to see the speaker to know them. She glared through the gloom. “And why should I trust anything you say, Hanamiya?”

The laugh again. It grated on Midorima’s nerves. “My, my, I never thought I’d see you again, Midorima. I thought you’d retreated to your castle to grow old among your books.”

That weight on her wards again. Hanamiya was trying to crush them, leave her and Kise vulnerable and unprotected. Midorima pushed back against them.

Kise made a sound of distress, but Midorima didn’t have time to look at her. “And I thought you’d gone back to the hills to mourn the loss of your dragon.”

Hanamiya gave a sound like a snarl, appearing at last. Time had not treated her well--her hair hung long and tangled, lines of age now creased her face when she sneered. Her clothes seemed to have rotted on her limbs

“Idiot,” she hissed, the shadows darkening around her. “They were never my dragon.”

“Midorima,” Kise said, her voice almost like a whine.

Midorima ignored her, her glare focused on Hanamiya. “You always were a hateful creature.” Even in the days when they were young, the only thing Hanamiya had ever cared to do was destroy, for no other reason than the pleasure of it.

Hanamiya laughed again, raising a hand. “You made a mistake in coming here, Midorima. Insulting me in my own home.”

“Midorima,” Kise’s voice was a squeak now.

Midorima tore her eyes away from Hanamiya for a moment. “What?” she snapped.

Hanamiya snapped her fingers. And Midorima saw them.

Spiders. Huge ones, bigger than horses--there must have been hundreds, all scuttling down the hill, directly toward them.

Kise grabbed Midorima by the arm, and they ran. Hanamiya’s laugh followed them. “You should have known better than to come here, Midorima.”

Midorima dropped her wards because regardless of whether or not Hanamiya had been speaking the truth when she said no one would see them here, she couldn’t keep them hidden and run for her life at the same time. She would be of no use to Kise dead.

Behind them the forest rumbled with the scuttling spiders, and Midorima did not dare look back to see if they were gaining.

Kise did. She ducked her head and pulled Midorima along faster, her grip on Midorima’s hand almost crushing.

Hanamiya laughed again, and Midorima heard a creaking like old wood splitting--

“Kise!” she screamed, and dug her heels in, jerking Kise back as a huge tree came crashing down just feet from them. It was ancient, too big around to climb over, too tall to go around before the spiders got to them, and Midorima didn’t have the energy to fly.

“No,” she whispered. They couldn’t be trapped. No, no she was not going to die here!

Hanamiya’s voice echoed through the trees. “You didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you?”

Kise turned, drawing her sword. “Well,” she said, “I guess we’ll just have to fight.”

Midorima turned as well, drawing on her last reserves of strength. “I did not come all this way,” she snarled, “just to die.”

#

There were always cries of fear when Imayoshi returned, a black smudge against the sky until those blood red wings seemed to block out the sun as they descended on the castle. Momoi watched as the dragon settled the castle walls, a bellowing roar shaking the stone. The tiny young woman on the dragon’s back slid down, calling orders to someone.

Momoi strolled out to meet Imayoshi and Sakurai, her cloak around her shoulders. The dragon eyed her and nodded. “Your Grace,” they hissed, a sly gleam in their eye. “You seem unhappy.”

Momoi tipped her chin up, knowing better than to trust niceties from Imayoshi. A dragon’s manners meant nothing. “The princess is still missing. Someone is hiding her from my sight.”

“Troubling,” Imayoshi replied, turning to peer down at the courtyard. Whatever Lady Sakurai had ordered, it had those below in an uproar--but no one would say no to the lady who had befriended the dragon.

“What is she doing?” Momoi asked.

“Bringing me a snack,” Imayoshi said, lips curling away from their teeth. “I’ve grown bored of cattle.”

Held between two of Momoi’s loyal guards was one of the knights who had resisted them, in the days when they first took the castle. Hyuuga, Momoi remembered. She had never cared for him, and Lady Sakurai, she knew, had loathed him. He struggled and shouted, clearly aware of what fate awaited him.

Even from this distance, Momoi could see that Sakurai was, if anything, eager.

She turned back to Imayoshi. “Can you find the princess?”

Imayoshi’s eyes slid round to regard Momoi.

“Whatever wards hide her from me will not be able to hide her from you.” Momoi nodded at Sakurai. “Take her with you, if you wish. But the princess must be found, or she will pose a threat to us all.”

Imayoshi nodded, folding their wings at their side. “I will look for her--but if I am away overly long, Your Grace, will you be able to hold this castle?”

Momoi smiled coldly. “I am not so helpless that I can’t hold this castle under my control.”

“As you say.” Imayoshi made themself comfortable, waiting as the screaming knight was brought to them. Momoi looked out at the city below the castle, pulling her hood up as the snow began to fall once more.

The princess would not evade her forever. She would be found, she would be devoured, and the throne would be Momoi’s.

Hyuuga screamed again. Momoi felt the heat of dragon fire at her back, and then heard only the crunch of bones.

#

Midorima woke after the sun had gone down, and the stars glittered in the sky between treetops. She moved slowly, stiffly. “Kise?”

“Midorimacchi!” Kise appeared at her side, looking relieved. “You collapsed after we escaped.”

That wasn’t entirely surprising. It had been decades since Midorima exerted so much power, and in such a short time. Kise must have carried her here, then.

She sat up, rubbing her face. Her head ached horribly. It took her a moment to realize that Kise was wearing very little, and that her clothes were drying by the fire. “And what possessed you to do that?” Midorima asked.

Kise wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather shiver for a little while than be crusty with spider innards, so I washed them.”

“And for that, you’ll get terribly ill, assuming you don’t freeze.” Midorima grimaced and rubbed her temple as her forehead throbbed. “Do we have any water?”

Kise found one of their cups, explaining as she did that there was a stream nearby. She leapt off through the dark, and as she did, Midorima struggled to her feet.

She had to put up the wards again. She didn’t have the strength to do much else, but she could do that.

She sank against the base of a tree, pulling her cloak around her with a sigh, glad for the wool.

They had fought tooth and nail to escape Hanamiya’s domain. Kise had killed or maimed many of the spiders, attacking first their legs and then their underbellies--and in one remarkable occasion, simply taking the head off of one.

Midorima had done what she could, blasting away a dozen or more at a time, sending them tumbling into the other spiders descending--she had cleared their escape route, at least. After that, she didn’t remember much at all.

Kise returned with the water, crouching down to offer it to Midorima. “You were amazing, Midorimacchi.”

Midorima arched an eyebrow. “-cchi?”

Kise smiled. “It’s something I call people I respect.”

“I’m flattered.” Midorima sipped at the water, and closed her eyes with a sigh. “I… don’t know how soon I will be able to leave here.”

Kise nodded. “I’ll take care of you until you’re ready. You saved my life.”

Midorima tried to think of something to say, but came up with nothing. She pretended to be asleep.

#

Hanamiya picked through the bodies of her spiders, a scowl on her face.

_I thought you’d gone back to the hills to mourn the loss of your dragon._

She scoffed, shaking her head. One never mourned the loss of a dragon--you celebrated it. Only trouble, those beasts. Worse as they got older.

But she was not unaware of what Imayoshi was doing now.

She was not unaware of what was happening beyond the edges of her forest.

Of the mages who were watching it.

#

Kise worked hard, in the few days they stayed there. She gathered wood for their fire, hunted, washed their clothes, cooked--and did it all with a smile on her face, humming, and greeting Midorima with a--”We’re having rabbit tonight, Midorimacchi!” or “Are you feeling better, Midorimacchi?”

And Midorima would snap or complain or ignore her, and it didn’t seem to bother Kise much at all. She hummed, and worked, and kept an eye on how Midorima was doing.

And by the third day, Midorima was ready to leave. She still ached, but she would not hold them there any longer than necessary. Given enough time, any sorcerer who knew where to look could break through a ward. Better that they keep on the move.

They followed the stream to a river that rushed and pulled at the ice that clung to the banks, the dull rumble of water over stone filling the air.

“Your knights,” Midorima said, “how difficult will it be to find them?”

“I don’t know,” Kise replied. She frowned, and sighed. “I can only hope they’re where the rumors say they are, and that we get to them before Momoi.”

“Momoi?”

“The witch.” Kise looked away. “The one who’s looking for us.”

Midorima glanced at Kise, at the sad look on her face. “And if we can’t find them? Or if we don’t get to them first?”

Kise sighed, and looked at Midorima. “Would you be willing to face a dragon with me?” There was grief in her eyes.

Midorima looked down the river, her hand tightening around her walking stick. “A dragon,” she said softly. “And Imayoshi, at that.” She sighed, and looked heavenward. She’d neglected her notes on the stars, these last few days.

She’d had Kise curled up at her side whenever they slept.

“I can do it alone, if I have to,” Kise said. “You didn’t have to come with me. But…” She stared down the river, too. “I’d rather not go alone.”

Midorima looked at her, and reached for her hand. “You won’t go alone. Someone has to get you past the witch, if you mean to slay a dragon.”

Kise smiled, fingers curling around Midorima’s.

“Now,” Midorima said, adjusting her bag on her back. “Let’s find these knights of yours.”

#

Wakamatsu had for years prided herself on her toughness. She’d been through a few brawls and come out none the worse for it, she could bring down a tree in under an hour, drink any man under the table--she generally thought there was nothing that could scare her.

She was very, very wrong.

Staring down the face of a dragon was definitely enough to make her turn to water.

And yet the tiny lady perched on the dragon’s back, wearing a split riding skirt and black leather boots, was entirely unbothered. She looked like a little doll, except for the way she talked to the dragon as if they were old friends.

“No, don’t eat her. She might be able to help us.”

And god help her if she couldn’t, Wakamatsu thought.

The lady slid to the ground, and gave Wakamatsu a nod, and a smile. “Hello, I was wondering if you could help me.” Snow crunched under her boots as she took a step closer.

“I’m looking for someone.”

 


	4. IV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: There's a bit of magic near the end that could be read as the use of hallucinogens. Also Imayoshi is gross about the fact that dragon's can digest bone.

“We weren’t charged with finding the knights,” Sakurai said, “we were told to find the princess.”

“And where the knights are, the princess will surely be, or at least be looking for them.” Imayoshi cracked a bone between their teeth, sucking at the marrow. It was from a cow, but Wakamatsu looked like she might be sick anyway. She had agreed to come with them to find the band of knights that had recently wandered through her village, but she’d agreed mostly because she had been afraid Imayoshi would eat her if she refused.

They were camped at the base of a hill, in a narrow valley that hid them from sight. Wakamatsu did her best to avoid looking at Imayoshi too much--which meant she spent most of her time looking at Sakurai.

“I should think,” Imayoshi added, “you would want to find the princess before Aomine.”  
 

Sakurai glared at Imayoshi. “I do,” she said, “but we can’t be sure the princess actually has any idea where they are.”

“She would be asking around, wouldn’t she? Certainly the peasants would remember a pretty blond girl asking questions.” Imayoshi crunched the bones, and the cracking sound made Wakamatsu turn green. She hadn’t known that dragons could digest bone.

She really wished she could forget.

Sakurai stood, a hand on her hip as she tended to the fire where her and Wakamatsu’s dinner was roasting--assuming Wakamatsu would actually be able to eat. Venison, for them. Apparently Imayoshi found deer to be too much skin and bone.

“The queen said that the princess has help. A sorcerer of some kind. So, when we capture the princess--what are we to do with the sorcerer?”

Imayoshi did something that Wakamatsu thought was supposed to resemble a smile. It looked more like a display of their teeth. “Her Majesty did not say.”

Sakurai smiled.

Wakamatsu focused very intently on the venison.

#

Midorima scanned the surrounding hills, holding tight to the pine bough currently supporting her.

“See anything?” Kise called up.

“There’s a campfire just to the south east of here,” Midorima replied. A column of grey smoke curled up from the trees, drifting westward in the breeze.

“That must be them.”

“All the same, I’d advise we approach with caution.” Midorima climbed back down, her skirts tied over her knees to keep them from catching too much pitch. She disturbed a woodpecker who took off through the trees, chattering. .

For weeks they’d been trekking through the woods, avoiding any villages they came across, risking the cold and the wind. They huddled together at night, Midorima keeping watch while Kise slept against her shoulder, blankets pulled up to her ears. Midorima would wrap an arm around Kise’s shoulder, and stare through the dark.

No wolves ever disturbed them, though Midorima could hear them howling at night, and sometimes they woke Kise.

Kise looked more haggard than she had when she first arrived in Midorima’s castle. She cried some nights, shaking in Midorima’s arms. But in the day, she always managed to find something to smile about.

She was smiling now, hopeful.

“You really believe they can help us?” Midorima had asked her the night before. They were as close to the fire as they could get without setting their blankets aflame. Kise’s head was tucked under Midorima’s chin.

Kise nodded. “They’re some of the best knights in the kingdom.”

“They fled the dragon and the witch.”

Kise was quiet a moment at that. “I think they were looking for me,” she said softly.

“Why would they be looking for you?”

Kise pulled away a little bit, staring at the fire. “Because… I’m the heir to the throne.”

Midorima stared at her for a moment, and then put her hand over her eyes. “Of course you are.”

Kise turned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Midorima laughed, shaking her head. “It’s just--I should have known.” Midorima looked heavenward. “You told me you’d been sent by the rightful heir to reclaim her throne. You kept hesitating. I should have known. I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out.”

“I didn’t really want you to know,” Kise said. She poked at the coals of the fire. “People think differently of princesses than they do of knights.”

“You always said you weren’t a knight.”

Kise shrugged, smiling a little. “I didn’t want to lie.”

Midorima laughed. “You just let me believe what I wanted to.” She laid a hand over Kise’s, leaning in. “Well, Your Majesty--”

“Don’t call me that,” Kise said. “Just Kise.”

“Kise,” Midorima corrected herself. “I’ll trust that the rightful queen of the realm knows who to trust to help her reclaim the throne.”

Kise smiled, and leaned in to kiss Midorima’s cheek. Midorima blushed, and wrapped her arm around Kise’s shoulders as Kise settled in at her side again. “You should get some sleep,” Midorima murmured. “We may have many more long days ahead of us.”

#

Midorima wanted to go on ahead to check out the camp alone, but Kise wouldn’t hear of it. “I’m every bit as capable as you. If those aren’t my knights, then fine--but if they are, I want to see them.”

Midorima had agreed--if only because she didn’t really like the thought of leaving Kise alone.

They crept through the snowy underbrush, coming up on the camp. Midorima could pick out at least half a dozen distinct voices. Kise seemed to recognize them and smiled, crawling through the underbrush on her hands and knees.

The pair found a place to observe the camp from behind a mound of snow, and a tangle of dead ferns coated in frost.

There were two campfires, and a cluster of knights around them, cooking and warming their hands. Three stood watch around the camp, and Kise named them each in a whisper.

“That’s Kasamatsu, she did a lot of training and drills. Over there, that’s Aida Riko--her father was a master swordsman, but she’s an archer, and deadly accurate. And that, that’s the Iron Heart. Kiyoshi. She’s unstoppable.” Kise pulled her cloak a little tighter around her shoulders, worry crossing her face. “I thought more of them had escaped.”

“They faced a dragon,” Midorima said, as gently as she could. “There were bound to be some who didn’t make it.”

“I know, but--” she sighed, and put her hand to her mouth, counting losses Midorima couldn’t guess.

Someone spoke behind them. “And just who might you be?”

Midorima and Kise whirled, Kise reaching for her sword. She relaxed, however, just as the woman who materialized out of thin air stared at Kise in shock. “Your Grace!”

“Kurokocchi, there’s no need to look so shocked.” Kise smiled. “You didn’t think I’d up and disappeared?”

#

Midorima watched as the knights turned, saw Kise, and recognized her. Most of them paid little if any attention to Midorima, instead rising and enthusiastically greeting Kise, bowing and asking “Your Majesty! How did you find us?” or “How did you escape, Your Majesty?”

Midorima watched the sky, deciding she would stay out of the way. Kise greeted each of the knights by name--Moriyama, Kasamatsu, Kuroko, Aida, Kiyoshi, Kagami, Izuki, Mitobe. She knew them all, and they knew her.

“Midorimacchi helped me,” Kise said, turning to look back at Midorima with a smile. “She found me.”

Everyone looked at Midorima, who blushed. “She would have been eaten by wolves,” she said, as if that explained anything.

She looked at this party.

Kise meant for eight knights, a mage, and herself to be able to take back a castle from a witch and a dragon.

She was not so sure she trusted these knights as much as Kise did. Not to face a dragon, not to face whatever knights served under the witch now.

“Midorimacchi?” Kise asked, reaching out to touch her arm. “Why do you look so gloomy?”

Midorima waved her off, looking around at the knights. One of them could become invisible, she noted, glancing at Kuroko. That had to be worth something.

Midorima turned back to Kise. “I got you this far,” she said softly. “Now how do you propose we take the castle?”

#

Kasamatsu saw the black smudge in the sky first. “Dragon!” she roared from her watchpost. “Put out the fires, quick!”

Everyone in the camp was moving in a moment. Tents were broken down and packed away, water splashed on the fires and snow kicked over the coals. Horses were untied and pulled into the thick of the woods, away from the streamside.

“Can’t you hide us?” Kise asked, finding her way to Midorima’s side.

Midorima shook her head. “Not from a dragon,” she said. “We’ll have to rely on more practical means to stay out of sight.” They took hold of the reins of several horses, following Kiyoshi as she led them into the forest.

Riko was high in a fir tree as they hunkered down, hidden under the boughs and watching the sky. She had nocked an arrow, but hadn’t drawn the bow.

A single arrow could take down a dragon, if placed right--but the chances of hitting those weak points was very slim. One could go through the eye, or just under the chin. Under a dragon’s shoulder could badly wound it, but it would not kill it, and if one meant to fire upon a dragon, one had best kill it quickly.

Midorima sat very still, and Kise sat close to her, a hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of her sword. No one made a sound.

The dragon passed overhead like a shadow. Midorima glanced up, getting only a glimpse of the long serpentine black body, and the wings as red as blood against the sky. The dragon was quiet, watchful.

“They’re looking for something,” Midorima breathed.

“Yes,” Kise agreed, “us.”

#

“The dragon’s never come this far south before,” Riko said, when Imayoshi had gone.

“Momoi must have sent them,” Kise said, “looking for me.”

They were still hunkered in the trees, not willing to build a new fire yet, lest Imayoshi return. Midorima folded her arms. “She would have sent them when my wards prevented her from finding us.”

“Wards?” Kiyoshi asked. “You’re--?”

“A mage,” Midorima said. “And a much older sorcerer than the one who sits on the throne.”

Kiyoshi nodded at Kuroko, the one who could become invisible. “Kuroko’s a witch’s daughter.”

“I suspected as much,” Midorima said, eyeing the small woman. “I didn’t even sense her coming.”

“And Kagamicchi,” Kise said, “Is a shapeshifter.”

“Kagamicchi” was currently standing watch, though she did look over her shoulder to give a frown.

“I see,” Midorima murmured. “That is why you had so much faith in them.” She still wasn’t convinced that it was enough. A witch or a dragon on their own were dangerous enough--together, they might spell ruin for all of them. “Are there any more sorcerers among you?”

Silence. No, just the two. Those two, and Midorima.

Midorima looked to Kise. “What shall we do?” she asked quietly.

#

They were weeks away from the castle. They would have to crawl ever closer to it without being seen by either Momoi or Imayoshi, and whatever search parties had been sent, which would make the journey even longer, avoiding villages and wide open spaces.

And Midorima would have to stretch wards over ten people.

She closed her eyes a moment, drawing in a breath. “Kise,” she said. “I can’t hide all of us and walk or ride.”

Kise touched her arm. “If I carried you?”

Midorima laughed with a pained sound, shaking her head. “I’m not going to ask the rightful queen of the realm to carry me.” She sighed, and rubbed her face. “If I hide all of you,” she said, “Momoi will know we’ve united. And, if I hide all of you, I will be good for absolutely nothing else.” She looked to Kise. “I won’t be able to help you once we reach the castle.”

“I’m sure Momoi has been keeping tabs on us,” Riko said, thumbing the fletching of an arrow. “She’ll notice if we suddenly disappear. So, rather than hiding all of us,” she looked to Midorima, “you should just keep hiding the princess and yourself, and travel a few days ahead of us. Hide near the castle until we catch up with you, and then we’ll attack.

“Momoi will know we’re coming, but you and the princess will catch her off guard. That’s the most surprise we can hope for, right now.”

Kise was shaking her head. “If Momoi sees you she’ll send out the guards, or worse, Imayoshi.”

“Then we’ll fight, and do what we can,” Kagami replied. “Better than you getting caught with us.”

“No!” Kise said, “No, I won’t make you go unprotected!” She turned to Midorima, tears in her eyes. “There must be something we can do!”

Midorima gazed at her a moment, and steepled her fingers. “I do have… one idea.”

#

“Why did the dragon leave again?” Wakamatsu asked, somewhat discontented at being stuck behind Sakurai on a horse. Sakurai’s cloak--all black furs--took up more space than Wakamatsu would have thought.

“Imayoshi can fly for days at a time--I, however, cannot.” Sakurai clucked her tongue at the horse, persuading the creature to cross the shallow stream they had come to. “So, you and I are going to keep a look out on our own, and track them.”

“There are eight knights, aren’t there? What are we supposed to do if we find them before Imayoshi?” Wakamatsu could handle herself in a brawl, but she didn’t think she could fight eight knights. All she had was an ax.

“Follow them. See what they’re doing. Wait for the princess.” Sakurai smiled. “And if we can, we take her.”

Wakamatsu didn’t say much to that. She was glad that the dragon was gone, and she didn’t much care one way or another what happened to the princess, but she did care about keeping all her limbs, and her head firmly attached to her shoulders.

“And if you think of trying anything,” Sakurai said, “I could kill you without blinking.”

Well. That was comforting.

#

Momoi hung the mirror on the wall, and shuttered her windows against the wind that moaned against the stone. Behind her in the hearth the fire roared, but did little to fight against the seeping chill. She pulled her furs tighter around her shoulders, removing the crown from her head.Her hair fell over her shoulders, loosed from braids and knots.

Smoke swirled in the mirror as she prepared, murmuring and lighting her candles. She opened a box hardly bigger than the palm of her hand, pressing a fingertip into the purplish powder within, and touching that fingertip to her tongue. She washed it down with a swallow of wine. The room around her became hazy, as if a fog had settled in her vision, even as the mirror became sharper and clearer.

The smoke in the mirror blackened, and then went white--white as bone, white as snow. Momoi gazed through the glass, losing awareness of the room around her as she hovered over a campsite where the knights that had escaped her had been.

It was empty--tents gone, fire pits buried under fresh snowfall.

Their tracks led north, and Momoi followed them.

Snow fell around her, swirling through her. She did not feel it, did not feel the cold or the wind. She only saw.

The knights were on the move, with new purpose. But there was no one with them, the princess was not there. So what had they heard, to make them come?

Did they mean to fight on their own, without a queen?

They traveled the difficult way, through unmapped forest and only following small streams, avoiding villages entirely and going far from rivers as fast they could. They did not want to be found.

Momoi’s sight went to the sky, to the heavy clouds that had not parted in weeks.

There flew Imayoshi, searching, and seething with rage that they had found nothing yet. They scorched patches of the countryside, sending peasants fleeing. They searched, and the princess evaded them.

Momoi sought out Sakurai, and found the lady with a woman twice her size, tracking the knights. They were days behind, but gaining.

Two travelled faster than eight, and their horse was well suited to the snow, and the hills.

They were laughing about something, perhaps enjoying each other’s company, though there was wariness there. Momoi did not care.

She searched for the princess.

She saw only snow.

A hammering on the door jolted Momoi from her seeing, and she snarled, turning in her chair. The smoke in the mirror vanished, and the glass showed only a reflection of the room. “What?!”

“Your Majesty,” it was Aomine’s voice on the other side of the door, “It’s her.”

“Who?” Momoi asked, rising from her chair. She covered the mirror with a shroud, imagining for half a moment that they had found the princess.

“The Great Bear,” Aomine said, breathlessly. “She’s at our gates.”

Momoi felt her core go cold.

#

Even as the wind howled around the castle, Momoi could hear the bellowing from the huge bear without the castle gates. She had heard stories, whispers--she’d never given them any credit. The age that had born the Great Bear--that had born the Spider Witch and the other great mages--that age had passed.

Momoi herself knew she was but a remnant of that age come in during the last days, having grown into her power just as the first greats went away to their forests and disappeared. She was the one who had held on, grown, remained great. She had lived all these years in the king’s castle, waiting for her moment.

She had not thought--had never dreamed--that the Great Bear would come forth.

She ran along the castle wall, her fur cloak billowing out behind her. She did not feel the cold. She would see the bear for herself, for the first time in ages, since she was young.

“Mukkun,” she whispered, her throat tightening.

The bear was huge, bigger than she remembered. She bellowed and raged, slamming her forepaws against the gates, that shook under the impact. The knights within the walls watched the shaking gates with terror, not knowing what they would do if the gates broke.

“Should we fire upon it, Your Majesty?” Aomine asked.

“No!” Momoi barked. “No, I will speak with her.”

Aomine looked at her incredulously. Loyal, she may have been, but even Aomine did not believe that Momoi could reason with the Great Bear.

“Open the gates,” Momoi said, turning to descend to the square.

“Your Majesty!”

“I said open the gates!” Momoi gave Aomine a venomous look. “Or when Imayoshi returns, you will be the dragon’s meal.”

When Aomine roared out he orders to open the gates, the people shouted and cried out, believing--knowing--that they were certainly about to die. But the gates began to creak open, and outside, Murasakibara fell quiet, except to huff and snort.

And Momoi, alone, waited as they opened.

Her knights and soldiers fell back, knowing they should not abandon their queen, but too fearful to be very close.

There would be no dragon here to defend Momoi if she was wrong.

But she did not need one, and she did not think she was wrong.

The huge black bear walked forward through the snow, her thick fur frosted with glittering flakes. Momoi drew in a breath, seeing those violet eyes once more. Had Murasakibara known she was here?

Or had she been sent?

She reached out a hand to the bear, placing it softly between Murasakibara’s ears, and closing her eyes.

“Hello, Mukkun,” she murmured. “It’s been a long time.”

 


	5. V.

Sakurai was nothing if not efficient at using the resources given her. Wakamatsu was a good hunter, and a better tracker--Sakurai used that to her advantage. A group of eight could not pass invisibly--but two might manage.

She had warmed to Wakamatsu somewhat--hardly a dishonest bone in that woman’s body, but she knew how to play along. And it had been a very long time since there had been someone who did not look at her as the stammering, apologetic lady she had been known as.

Wakamatsu dragged a foot through the half-melted snow, to uncover the ashes of a buried fire. “There are still a few coals,” she told Sakurai. “We’re gaining on them--hardly half a day behind them, I’d think.”

Sakurai nodded, feeding wizened apples to their horse. The mare snuffled and snorted, ears flicking as birds called. It was a wary creature, but made of stern enough stuff. A raven croaked somewhere in the trees. “We’ll catch up with them by tonight,” Sakurai sai. “And then we’ll get to work.”

“And what are we gonna do?” Wakamatsu asked, swinging into the saddle behind Sakurai. “Just trail behind them and try not to get caught?”

“Of course not,” Sakurai said, “we’re going to join them.”

#

Kise kicked snow dangerously close to the fire, earning a scowl from Midorima. “If you want us to freeze, by all means, just say so.”

“I don’t like this,” Kise said, “there had to have been another way.”

“We need every little advantage we can gain.” Midorima tended to their dinner--a soup of what little meat they could get, some too-old vegetables, and a bit of milk they’d stolen from an unattended milk cow. Not exactly a king’s supper, Midorima knew, but they needed the nourishment. Game was harder and harder to come by--hunting took up far too much of their time, anyway--and they couldn’t risk going into a village to buy food. “No one wanted to risk putting you in even greater danger.”

“And what kind of queen will I be if I’m not willing to risk my life for my people?” Kise asked, pacing.

“No one is doubting your willingness,” Midorima replied sharply. “You’ll be a dead queen if you go charging in without a plan.” She stirred the pot (also stolen--Midorima had made a note to send that particular cottage a very fat cow if she survived the winter) and glanced at Kise, who was scowling out through the trees. “Kise,” she said, “please understand.”

“I came so far on my own,” she said. “Or I thought I did. But people have been helping me all the way--Murasakibara, you. Probably Akashi, though I’ll be damned if I know what I am that interests her.”

“There is no shame in accepting help.” Midorima wished she had salt, or pepper--anything for this soup that looked and smelled less and less appetizing the longer it cooked. “No one can rule a kingdom alone.”

Kise sighed, and rubbed her face. She stalked off through the trees, her cloak held tight around her shoulders.

“Dinner is almost finished,” Midorima called. Kise didn’t answer.

Midorima let out a sigh, warming her hands over the fire. I left everything for her, Midorima thought. My home, my life. Everything--because a star wasn’t where it should have been. Because I believed Akashi wanted me to.

She wasn’t so sure anymore. She’d seen no more signs from Akashi, no hint that the mage was even watching. What if all this--everything--was just because Midorima had misinterpreted some heavenly sign?

Midorima didn’t taste the soup as she ate--which was probably for the better. She stared at the fire, lost in thought.

She hadn’t seen Akashi in over a century, and yet she’d been willing to leave everything at what she thought was Akashi’s word.

_Because I always did anything Akashi asked._

Midorima looked toward where Kise stood, just a few yards from their camp, shivering. She poured a second bowl and stood, making her way through the snow. “Kise,” she said softly. “You need to eat.”

Kise didn’t look at her. “Midorimacchi,” she said, “when we reach the castle--you’ll let me take the dragon by myself?”

Midorima gazed at her. She looked to the west, where the setting sun glowed through the trees. “You’ll be of no use to your kingdom dead.”

“Midorimacchi.”

Midorima closed her eyes. “I care very much for you, Kise,” she said softly. “I do not want to see you hurt.” She handed Kise the bowl. “When it comes time,” she said, “I will let you do what you must. But don’t expect me to sit back and watch if I think you will be harmed.”

She had made that mistake once--and she would not make it again.

#

The wind moaned through the castle walls, the hollow sound reaching even the great feast hall, where Momoi sat with Murasakibara, trying to gain answers. The kitchens had been buzzing with activity since Murasakibara’s arrival--it seemed her appetite had only grown with age.

She eyed the many empty plates that Murasakibara had polished off, asking again, “Why are you here, Mukkun?”

Murasakibara’s arrival worried her, more even than the winter and the wind. If Mukkun was paying attention--then who else was?

Mukkun glanced at her. There had always been a certain knowing in her eyes; one that most people missed. “She sent me.”

Momoi did not need to ask who. The cold seemed to pierce her throat--she swallowed. “Why?”

“Can’t you guess?”

The winter. The cold that was killing her guards even as they stood watch through the night. The wind that would not cease it’s howling. Momoi pressed her hands together, watching the fire that roared in the hearth, that could not warm the room.

“I didn’t know she had grown so powerful,” Momoi said softly. But she should have expected it--even in the old days, Akashi had been powerful. Time would only have given her the chance to push her limits.

Momoi wondered if Akashi was even human anymore.

“She wants things set right,” Mukkun said.

Momoi stood, running her hand over the table. “I saw this castle built,” she said, “I attended to every king and queen who walked its halls for over a century. I taught the princes and princesses, I held their kingdom for them against every enemy. And Akashi thinks she’ll  _set things_ _right?”_  Momoi turned with a glare. “Tell her that I am the only queen who will sit on this throne, that my crown is long overdue for the things I have done and endured.

“Tell her that if she’s bringing the princess to my door, I’ll have Kise fed to my dragon. They’ve got a taste for traitors.”

#

Midorima stared at Kise, not sure that she’d heard right. "Momoi built that castle?"

"She helped my great grandmother to power," Kise said. "She was a trusted advisor for generations. No one ever dreamed that she would betray our family."

_You mean that she would betray you,_ Midorima thought. She peered through the boughs, keeping a firm grip on Kise's arm as they spied from the height of a hemlock tree.

They were a good mile or so from the city, but it was easy enough to see the castle on the hill, with it's squat heavy walls and the towers stretching toward the heavens. "No good can come of a castle she built. Who knows what she hid in the walls?"

Kise grimaced. "The others should only be a few days behind us. We can stay out of sight here, but we don't have enough food."

Midorima nodded, stepping out of the tree and to the ground. "I can go into the city," she said. "And buy food."

Kise gave a start. "Are you serious?"

"If you stay within our camp, Momoi won't see you." Midorima stoked the fire. "And she won't know to look for me." She looked at Kise. "We need the food, and new boots. You've almost worn holes through yours. You'll be a queen with only three toes if we don’t do something about it."

Kise hugged her arms across her chest. "How long would you be gone?"

"No more than an afternoon," Midorima said. "Long enough to get what we need, get a general feel for the city." She looked toward the hill. "Otherwise we'll be charging in blind."

Kise sank onto her bedroll, grinding her heels into the snow. "I don't like it."

"It's what we have to do." Midorima gave her a long look. "Our other choice is to have no food, and no information."

Kise glowered at the ground. Midorima turned away, busying herself with drying their firewood.

Kise kicked a stone. "What if Imayoshi goes to see Hanamiya, and finds out we're travelling together?"

"I can't say that I understand Hanamiya, but I daresay she would not be in a helpful mood if Imayoshi turned up." Midorima added wood to the fire. “There’s bad blood between them, and Hanamiya was never the forgiving sort.”

#

Everyone in camp heard the shout for help. Riko nocked an arrow, drawing her bow in the direction of the sound. "Who's there?" she called.

"Please, my wife--she's hurt!" A woman stumbled out of the underbrush, leading a mare, snorting and tossing her head. A smaller woman sat slumped in the saddle, hand pressed to her side, blood seeping between her fingers and staining her clothes. "Please, help us, she’s dying!"

"Who are you?" Riko demanded.

"Wakamatsu," she said, "please, you have to help us."

Riko lowered her bow, and nodded at Mitobe. She eyed the strangers for a moment, and turned to watch the sky again, searching for the dragon.

Pale under her hood, Sakurai smiled.

#

Snow gone to grey and black slush splashed around Midorima's ankles as she walked down the street, her hood pulled over her head. Castle guards paced along the rooftops, watching everything. The banners that whipped in the wind bore a black dragon on a field of red.

That wind stripped all warmth from the bones. Midorima stopped at a tavern, to buy bread and meat and warm her hands, and the old woman who was the innkeeper's mother said that the wind had not stopped in a fortnight. "It's an angry god, I think," she said, her hands shaking. "Or the queen. Maybe she called this winter down on us, to make us suffer for resisting her."

Midorima had laid a hand over the old woman's shaking fingers. "The wind will stop soon," she said, though she could not say how she knew.

Next she found the cobbler, rapping on his door with a stone so as to be heard. "I need two pairs of boots," she said, "I'm willing to pay handsomely for them. And I need somewhat else--can you tell me where I might find the blacksmith?"

#

Wakamatsu sat next to Sakurai, long after everyone but those keeping watch had gone to sleep. "Did I have to be your wife?" she whispered.

Sakurai inspected the bandaging on her wound. "They wouldn't have believed I was your sister. They needed a reason not to ask my name." She pulled her tunic over the wound again. Wakamatsu had nearly been ill when Sakurai had taken her dagger and plunged it into her side. It was hardly a lethal wound--but enough to be convincing.

"This is mad," Wakamatsu murmured. “You’re mad.”

"Best get some sleep, love," Sakurai replied. "We'll have to keep pace with these 'travellers' if we want to stay with them." She smiled at Wakamatsu, patting the bedroll next to her.

Wakamatsu sighed, stretching and trying to get comfortable. "I should have run when I had the chance."

"But you didn't, so which one of us is really mad?"

#

It was evening when Midorima returned, and Kise was furious. She stormed across their little camp, kicking snow and stones out of her way. “Why did you take so long? You said you’d only be gone for an aft--” she stopped, seeing what Midorima carried on her back. “What is that?”

Midorima put down their food, their boots, and slid the thing off of her back, holding it out to Kise. “Your shield.”

Kise stared at the unadorned steel, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword. “I don’t fight with a shield.”

“You’re going to be facing a dragon,” Midorima said, “to fight without a shield would be suicide.” She laid it on the ground, by the fire. “I took the liberty of enchanting it,” she added. “It should resist dragon fire a great deal longer than otherwise.”

Kise hefted the shield, testing it’s weight. “It’s lighter than I thought,” she said. She rapped the surface with her knuckles. “Did you do that too?”

“No.” Midorima sat, giving a shiver in her cloak. “I only cast against the fire. The blacksmith said he made it light but strong, meant for a person of about your height.”

Kise lowered the shield. “Thank you,” she said.

Midorima only closed her eyes. “We had best get all the rest we can, these next few days. When the others arrive, we will not have any time for doubt.”

They ate a full meal for the first time in days, and settled in at the base of a tree. Midorima sat with her back against the trunk, intending to keep watch through the night. Kise curled up next to her, using Midorima’s lap as a pillow. She watched the fire burn long after it should have died, sustained by whatever charm Midorima had put on it.

“Midorimacchi,” she said, “when we take the castle… will you stay?”

Midorima rested her hand on Kise’s shoulder. Would she stay? Would she leave behind one hundred years of self-imposed solitude, of research and study, to stay with a young queen and rebuild her kingdom?

“I don’t know,” Midorima said. “If--when--we’ve finished with this quest of yours, I’ll decide.” That was no answer, she knew--one or both of them may well die in the taking of the castle. But she had never once considered that she might stay, once everything was over and done.

Kise sighed. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

#

Aomine stood watch with the guards that night.

Her impatience with the parties she had sent in search of Kise grew with every passing day. One of them had returned just that morning to report failure--they had followed a rumor to the woods haunted by the Spider Witch--and three of them had died there.

Aomine had had the man who’d been placed in command flogged within an inch of his life before she reported this latest failure to Her Majesty.

The worst part wasn’t the whispering of the guards, or the resentful mutters of the court. No, the worst part was the way Momoi’s eyes coolly passed over her, and she said, “No matter. Imayoshi will find her.”

She would not be shown up by that lizard, or the tiny, whimpering woman who had grown so damned sure of herself since that beast turned up.

She would find Kise if she had to ride out herself to do it--and when she found the princess, she would take her due.

#

A bellow jerked Midorima out of her doze, and Kise was on her feet in an instant, picking up shield and sword.

Midorima climbed to the top of the nearest tree, looking to the south, her breath catching in her throat. “It’s Imayoshi,” she called down, “coming like the wind out of hell.”

She dropped out of the tree, their fire guttering out. “And your knights--they’re just half a mile away from us, running for their lives. Now’s our time.”

Kise nodded, her face grim. Midorima picked up her staff, and took Kise’s hand.

They were to go to the edge of the city, where the stone walls barely concealed a narrow passage under the city, and into the castle. The knights would break for the gates, to create a diversion, and Kise and Midorima would get inside. "Momocchi built it," Kise said, "but if you can hide us at least that far, we can get in before she suspects anything."

Midorima tripped a charm that shot a bolt of green smoke into the sky, to tell the others they were on the move--and to distract Imayoshi.

Kise clutched Midorima's hand as they ran. No time for doubt, now, or second thoughts. This was what they had come all this way for, what they had faced spiders and cold and hunger for.

And behind the castle walls, Midorima heard a roar.

She stopped, staring. Kise jerked on her arm, and turned, her eyes hard. "Midorimacchi, what are you  _doing?"_

"Murasakibara," Midorima breathed. "She's here."

"Well, let's hope she's on our side." Kise dragged Midorima along again.

Midorima's head was spinning. Atsushi was there. But then--that meant--

Akashi must surely be on her way.

 


	6. VI.

Momoi did not need to go to the walls to know what was happening.

The castle saw for her, watched for her--she could feel the stones whispering. Imayoshi was returning, and the knights that had gone missing with the princess were like an arrow through the middle of the city, the peasants letting them pass--and some following after, to join in.

Momoi could feel their anger, their hate, their fear. She drew it into her lungs and breathed it back out to the empty throne room.

She could feel the people within the castle, their fear and confusion. She could feel the guards gathering, their formations--the way they readied to defend a queen they despised.

The stones breathed that battle was here.

#

The passage was hardly wide enough for two to pass abreast, and low enough that Midorima had to duck her head as they ran, racing time before Momoi thought to check the tunnels.

The air smelled of hoary earth, and the only light they had came from the lichens that lined the passage, gleaming with a weak grey light.

They would seal the tunnels behind them, to prevent Momoi from escaping through them, but if they were caught while still in the tunnel, there’d be no avoiding whatever she sent as a greeting.

A crumbling sound behind Midorima told her they’d already found some trap. She glanced over her shoulder, and looked back. “Run faster,” she told Kise.

“What is it?” Kise asked without looking.

“A monster of stone, now run!” They bolted down the narrow passage, Midorima only occasionally glancing back to make a sweeping motion with her staff, and set the monster back a few dozen paces. It was too dark to see clearly what it was, but it filled the passage almost completely and moved faster than anything of that size ought to have.

“There, the end!” Kise shouted, “The door!”

“Duck!” Midorima ordered, and with a blast she knocked the door open. She turned, and brought the tunnel down behind them, the ceiling collapsing upon the stone creature, who fell without a sound.

The room that they stumbled into was little different from the passage, bare stone walls with hardly a thing but lichen and long, thin icicles that were grey with filth. They stopped a moment to catch their breath, and make sure that the passage was sealed.

Above them, Midorima could hear the roar again--that bellow that rattled stone.

Her heart hammered in her ears. It was like in the old days, when she and the others--Akashi, and Atsushi, and Hanamiya, and those who were gone now--when they had battled against each other, against every manner of enemy. When Midorima had been young, and known this land, and known its kings and queens.

Like it, and yet not like it at all. Midorima had been with Akashi then.

“Let’s go,” Kise said, “before she notices.”

Midorima nodded. “If she hasn’t noticed already.”

#

The knights had nearly killed them when Sakurai had signalled Imayoshi, and they realized what she was. It was only because Wakamatsu had already saddled their mare--and sheer luck that Aida’s arrows had missed their mark--that they had escaped with their lives.

And they’d run like hell, outpacing the knights to get near the city, and wait for the dragon.

“Take the horse,” Sakurai said, “and do what you like. Maybe after the battle, I’ll bring you a gift as a token of my gratitude.” She smiled at Wakamatsu, as if this was all a grand game that she meant to win, and scrambled up the nearest tree, jumping into the air just as Imayoshi passed overhead and caught her in their jaws, tossing her up again to land neatly on their back.

The mare whinnied and bucked at the nearness of the dragon, and it took everything Wakamatsu had to calm her. She watched the dragon and Sakurai fly toward the castle, and thought about turning toward home.

She thought about leaving all this dragon and princess-finding business behind her, going back to the way things were before.

Wakamatsu muttered a curse, and swung into the saddle, pulling a stolen hatchet out of her belt.

Like hell she’d come this far just to go home without seeing the battle for herself.

#

The Great Bear beat at the gates, trying to open them to the knights and the mob outside. Aomine bellowed orders over the chaos, trying to organize the castle guards. She did not know if she could trust the bear like Momoi did; Her Grace had not spoken a word since that morning, as she sat in her throne, and watched where her eyes did not see.

It had been left to Aomine to control the castle.

"Open the gates,"  she roared, "if it's a fight they want, we'll give it to them." She would crush this rebellion, if she had to take Kise’s head herself.

The gates creaked and groaned, and the Great Bear sank to all fours, huffing great clouds, dark fur ruffled by the wind. Aomine turned to watch the knights below--she'd wondered when they'd come back.

Kagami, she saw, was already a tiger, and Kuroko...

"Tetsu," Aomine whispered, "I suppose you're down there somewhere, invisible." She’d trained with them, grown up with them. She knew them. They’d sworn their lives to the same king.

They’d been friends, once.

She glared, and turned the guards below. "Kill them all," she roared, "for your queen, for your kingdom!"

The gates opened, and with a roar, the bear turned on the castle guards, swiping a huge paw through a swath of soldiers. Aomine swore, running down into the fray.

The knights ran forward to meet them, and Aomine dropped her sword, her body stretching, growing stronger, and as a panther she slammed into the tiger that was Kagami. Snarling they rolled across icy stone, claws and teeth tearing.

And with a bellow that shook stone, Imayoshi landed on the castle walls, a jet of flame driving back what part of the mob remained outside the gates. Sakurai was on their back, scanning the crowds.

Looking for the princess.

#

Midorima and Kise raced up the stairs. They could hear the dragon roar, like thunder. "Momocchi will still be inside," Kise said, "Grandfather used to tell me that she could make the very castle walls defend us."

Midorima supposed she could believe it. "I'll handle her," she said, "you worry about Imayoshi."

"Midorimacchi," Kise looked over her shoulder. "Thank you."

"Go," Midorima said, "I'll look for Momoi."

No one took notice of Midorima as she followed the turns of the corridors going by what Kise had told her about the castle, and what magic she could sense. The people inside the castle were more worried about the battle outside than one woman they didn’t know.

It was disorienting--everything within the walls stank of magic, more than her own home ever had. Magic built, and the castle was saturated, so that her ears rang with it. How could anyone stand to walk in these halls, to live in them?

"So," a voice said, "you're the one who's been hiding Kise from my sight."

Midorima turned. She had found her way to the throne room, and a woman sat there, dressed in silks, with a crown on her head. Her eyes were flat as stone, as if she wasn’t watching with them. "Not Akashi--she would never sneak into my castle like a rat."

Midorima drew herself up, her face grim. "You must be Momoi," she said. "The witch who stole Kise's throne."

Momoi laughed. "It's more mine than it ever was Kise's." She rose. "But who are you?"

"My name is Midorima Shintarou," Midorima said coolly. "Perhaps you know my name."

"Ah," Momoi said, "you were one of Akashi's." She raised a hand before her. "I must confess, I've always wanted to meet more of the Greats. I always considered them to be my predecessors." The stone of the floor began to shift and bubble. "I am sorry that this had to be the way."

A huge stag of stone was thrust up from the floor, and lowered its antlers to charge. Midorima spun her staff before her, and the creature shattered. "I am sorry as well," she said. "I might have been interested to learn from you."

Momoi smiled.

#

People recognized Kise as she bolted past--servants cried out in alarm, lords and ladies called "Your Grace!" after her--but Kise did not stop to acknowledge either.

She burst upon the battle, and in a moment took it all in.

She could see the huge bear, Murasakibara, with spears in her side, sweeping through the guards--and there, Kagami and Aomine, locked in battle, biting and snarling, each with fur matted with blood and sleet--ready to destroy each other.

Riko had found a vantage point upon a wagon, firing into the battle--and below her was Kiyoshi, defending Riko's post. The people of the city had whatever had been available to them, and Kise did not allow herself to linger on how they were not prepared to face trained soldiers.

Her eyes went through the swirling snow, where Kise could see the hulking black shape of Imayoshi, crouched upon the walls, grabbing victims three or four at a time.

And Sakurai, who had seen her.

She raised her shield and ran across the courtyard, snow and wind stinging her face. "Imayoshi!" she called.

The dragon turned, eyes finding her, and they bared their teeth. "Hello, princess." A fiery blast cut through the snow, and Kise only just raised her shield in time.

#

“You’re out of practice, Midorima,” Momoi said, sending another stone monster her way, this one a lion. “Or at least I hope you are. I expected more from one of the old greats.”

Midorima drove the butt of her staff into the floor, sending deep cracks through the monster and making the entire hall tremble. “I’m functioning at a tactical disadvantage,” she replied sharply, blasting the monster to shards. The pieces melted back into the floor, reforming at Momoi’s call. Midorima sent a blast her way, but it was not as strong as the one before it.

Midorima's breath came in gasps, sweat running down her forehead. She had a long gash on her face, and heaven only knew if her ribs were intact, from when one of Momoi's monsters had gotten too close.

“I’m surprised you came to me,” Momoi said, throwing a wall of stone in front of herself to create a shield. It shattered under the weight of the blast, and Momoi smiled at Midorima, as stone snakes curled around Midorima's legs and up her body, holding her fast. “I’d have thought you’d try to draw me out.” A sharp point pressed against her throat, threatening.

Midorima smiled back, and that seemed to surprise Momoi. “I don’t have to draw you out. Murasakibara is already here; you know what that means, don’t you?” Her hands curled around her staff, knuckles white.

Momoi bared her teeth, for a moment seeming like a snake preparing to strike. “What?”

Midorima’s breath fogged on the cold air. _“She’s_ coming.” She jerked back, breaking the grasp of the stone.

For the first time, Midorima saw something like fear in Momoi’s eyes. She slammed her staff into the stone, drawing on everything she had left in her.

Cracks like the fractals of snowflakes raced through the stone.

The walls trembled and groaned. Momoi stared at her, as it dawned on her what was happening. “You wretch,” she snarled. “The very stones of this castle answer to me!”

“Let’s see how well they answer when they’re dust,” Midorima replied, and bolted from the room. The trembling in the walls began to be a quiver, and then a shake. Midorima rounded up a group of terrified men and women, urging them to get out. She found everyone she could, even as the floor began to buck and heave under her.

She could hear Momoi calling out to the stone, trying to hold the walls together. _You wanted a battle,_ Midorima thought grimly. _Try to hold your castle together now._ She moved toward the outside, toward the sounds of battle. Columns crumbled behind her, ceilings fell to dust.

And with a rumble like thunder Momoi’s castle came caving in.

#

There was not a soul who did not stand still and watch as the inner walls of the castle fell. The icicles fell away as deadly spears, the stone shook and cracked and slid apart, groaning as they resisted their demise, and then thundering as they fell inward.

The towers remained, but of the portion of the castle that had held the throne room, and the feast halls, there was nothing left but rubble and dust, already being swept away in the wind.

And one woman stood before the remains of the castle, panting, leaning heavily on her staff.

There were whispers, barely heard over the hollow moan of the wind, and then the dragon gave a cry such that the people below screamed and began to flee. Imayoshi leapt from the walls, nearly crushing several people as they sank to the ground of the square, snarling. “You,” they growled, approaching Midorima, “I’ll burn you down to ash.”

Kise leapt between them, raising her sword. “I’ll kill you if you come near her.”

A low hiss came from the dragon, their claws scraping the stone. “I’ll burn you both, crack your bones between my teeth.” They snapped at Kise, teeth long and white. Kise danced back, pushing Midorima behind her. She slashed her sword at the dragon’s face, steel slamming against scales stronger than any armor.

Kise’s heart raced, and she felt light. As if her fear, her fury, had made her something new--had sheared her down to her goal. No witch would sit on her throne, no dragon would harm the people she loved.

Midorima was at her back. “Under the chin,” she whispered, “toward the back of the throat. First chance they give you.”

Kise nodded. “Get the others out of here.”

Midorima slipped away as Imayoshi snapped at Kise again. Kise thrust her shield up against the dragon’s snout, and slid to the side as a column of fire nearly caught her.

Imayoshi followed her, smoke billowing from the dragon’s jaws. What had happened to the rider, Lady Sakurai, Kise didn’t know, and didn’t care. She had gone, joining a woman on horseback Kise hadn’t had time to pay any mind to.

“Did she mean so much to you?” Kise asked. “You know what you were to her, don’t you? Her pet.”

Imayoshi bellowed, stone cracking under their weight. Kise held her ground, drawing in breath after breath of icy winter air. “She meant something to me, too. But she was going to have me killed, what makes you think she wouldn’t have turned on you, too?”

Fire. Kise ducked behind her shield, and the dragon knocked her down, claws curling around the edges of the shield. Kise's head struck stone and her head swam, lights dancing before her eyes. Imayoshi hissed, crushing the shield against Kise's chest. "Queen or girl, all your kind burn the same."

Kise stared up into the dragon's eyes, drawing in what breath she could, her fingers curling tighter around the hilt of her sword.

Imayoshi began to draw in a breath, and Kise plunged her sword through the underside of their jaw, towards the back of the throat--just as Midorima had said to do.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m sorry, Momocchi.”

#

The dragon’s death scream rent the air so that everyone covered their ears, turning to look as Imayoshi’s huge form jerked back, a sword buried to the hilt in their throat. Pitiful bursts of flame guttered from their teeth as they thrashed blindly, and fell behind the castle walls.

Midorima abandoned the people she was evacuating, running toward the open gates. She saw only the body of the dragon beginning to grow still.

“Kise!” she screamed. _“Kise!”_

Kise was on her hands and knees in the snow. She was covered in blood--not her own, Midorima quickly saw. Too dark, dragon’s blood. She shook, in something between exhaustion and relief, her blond hair all tangled around her face. There was blood in her hair at the back of her head, and her face was white. “Is--are they dead?”

Midorima crossed slowly down to where Imayoshi’s head had fallen. Breath still rattled through the dragon’s ribs, though their eyes were glazed with pain.

Midorima knelt, laying a hand on Imayoshi’s head. Their eye rolled back to glare at Midorima, but they could not speak.

Her area of study had always been healing, but there were times when no healing was possible. When it was best to simply let them go.

And for that, Midorima was not unprepared.

She curled her fingers around the hilt of Kise’s sword, and pulled. Blood washed over the cobblestones, melting the snow it touched. Imayoshi gave one last heaving breath, and died. Midorima walked back to Kise, and handed her the sword. She bowed her head. “Your sword, Your Majesty.”

Kise struggled to her feet and took the blade. For a long moment, she and Midorima simply gazed at each other.

Kise sat. “You knocked my fucking castle down.”

Midorima stared at Kise, and the absurdity of the whole thing struck her with a blow like a hammer. She laughed--for the first time in years, a real, deep laugh, so that she had to sit down as well. “I’m sorry,” she said, still giggling. “I told you no good came of a witch-built castle.”

“I didn’t think you were going to make me rebuild it!” Kise laughed, shaking her head. She held out her hand to Midorima. “And no more ‘your majesties,’ Midorimacchi.”

Midorima grasped her arm to stand. She nodded with a smile. “Alright, Kise.”

#

Sakurai nursed a wounded arm, a scowl on her face. “Should have let me stay.”

“Why? So you could die with the dragon?” Wakamatsu clucked her tongue. “You should be thanking me for saving your life. The princess will be queen now, do you think she’d let you keep your head?”

“She just might,” Sakurai muttered, resting her forehead against Wakamatsu’s back. “Her knights, however…”

Wakamatsu looked toward the horizon, where the blue mountains rose against the sky. “You ever wonder what’s beyond those?”

Sakurai glanced up, resting her chin on Wakamatsu’s shoulder. “Let’s go see.”

Wakamatsu clucked her tongue at the mare, and neither of them looked back once.

#

Murasakibara stood by the gates, injured, but apparently alright. Midorima tended to her wounds, and it took her some time to notice that the wind had stopped.

She looked up to the horizon, and Murasakibara nodded. “She’s coming.”

Midorima looked away. She dabbed at a gash on Atsushi’s side, mending the flesh under her fingers. She would tend to everyone of the injured she could reach--it had been too many years since Midorima had used her skills with healing.

Her power had been all but exhausted bringing down the main halls of the castle, but there was some little she could still do to heal the worst of things.

Kise was seeing the lords and ladies of the court for the first time in months, talking to them about what had happened “while she was away,” as if all this had been a simple jaunt through the countryside. Midorima did not understand it, but she did not ask.

She was only glad that the wound on Kise's head had healed well under her touch.

A light breeze began to stir the snow, and then a fierce swirl of it blew through the castle gates. Midorima covered her eyes to protect against the stinging.

Just as quickly, the wind stilled.

Midorima lowered her arm, and felt her throat go tight.

Akashi was as regal as ever, her eyes sliding over the scene in cool appraisal. The dragon, the injured, the dead who had been gathered aside . Then her eyes came to rest on Atsushi and Midorima.

She smiled.

“I’m glad that you saw my message, Shintarou,” she said. Her voice no longer seemed to come from her throat--but rather the wind. She wore white now, and seemed to be half a spirit. Midorima had once known that face so well--and now it seemed only alien, half-remembered.

Midorima nodded. “It’s good to see you again, Akashi.”

Akashi walked to the dragon’s body, examining it. Midorima followed, but kept her distance. “And to think,” Akashi said, “they caused us trouble for so many years.”

Midorima did not say anything. Akashi looked at her.

“Aren’t you going to talk to me, Shintarou?”

Midorima looked across the square, her eyes settling on Kise.

“Ah,” Akashi said. “She is a rather interesting young woman, isn’t she?”

“I’m sorry,” Midorima blurted.

Akashi gazed at her. Once, Midorima might have been able to read the expression on her face--but time had changed them both, and they had grown apart. “Sorry for what?”

“F-for running away, for--for leaving when, when--” Midorima could not stop her stammering, so she went silent.

Akashi looked to the ruins of the castle. “We could not have helped each other then. The world was changing, and I meant to resist it.”

The world was changing. Yes, that was the way to describe what had happened then, wasn’t it? They had grown up as the world’s greats, their most powerful mages. And then the kingdoms they’d called their own fell, swallowed up by their neighbors, the people who had been their friends passed away, and war came. The people no longer trusted them, no longer knew them.

And when Akashi had seemed ready to fall, when she had scorched the earth before her, Midorima had fled.

And she had never forgiven herself.

“I thought you were dead,” Midorima murmured.

Akashi touched Midorima’s shoulder--and the touch that once would have comforted her was now only jarring. “It is good to see you again, Shintarou. I am glad you did not stay locked away in your castle forever.”

Midorima made no attempt to smile. “Why this?” she asked. “Why call me out to help with some quest?” Why didn’t you send for me sooner?

Akashi nodded at the rubble. “Kingdoms are not meant to be ruled by our kind, Shintarou. We forget what it is to have only a few years. Things had to be set right.”

Midorima closed her eyes, and smiled a little. You didn’t answer my question.

“What?” Akashi asked.

“You still act as though you know everything, even now.” Midorima shook her head. “I don’t understand you, Akashi.”

Akashi smiled back. “I do hope you don’t make a habit out of hiding away for centuries at a time.”

“Midorimacchi!” Kise called.

“Just a moment,” Midorima replied, and turned to speak to Akashi. Perhaps to thank her, or apologize again.

But she found only empty space, and silence. She turned to Atsushi, and saw a great, black bear disappearing down the street, moving back to the forests.

Midorima sighed, and looked to the sky.

A patch of blue broke through the clouds. _Spring,_ she thought.


	7. VII.

Midorima tended to the wounded, saying little. A few people gave her curious looks, recognizing her as the person who had brought down the main halls of the castle--the woman who the princess called “Midorimacchi.” No one spoke to her, though, except to murmur thank yous as she stitched together the worst of their wounds, and bandaged the others. They were wary of magic, these days.

Midorima only nodded, washing blood from faces and offering what help she could. She had forgotten what it was like to move from face to face, not having time to speak with any of them except to help them to the best of her ability. Not having time to know their names, to remember their faces.

To wish she could do more.

“Midorimacchi, you’re going to exhaust yourself.” Midorima didn’t know when Kise had joined her, she’d been too busy tending to Kagami’s various injuries, which were many, and severe.

“Everyone is exhausted,” Midorima replied, wrapping the bandages tight. “All I can do now is set bones in the right place, bandage, and hope.” She struggled to her feet, moving to the next person.

Kise followed her. “Midorimacchi--”

Midorima gave her a cold look. “Don’t, Kise.”

Kise was quiet for a moment, and she looked at the bucket Midorima carried water in, water for washing the wounds. “Let me get you fresh water,” she said.

“I need more bandages, and splints,” Midorima told her.

Kise nodded, and turned to find people who were able enough to fetch things, ordering them to give Midorima what help they could, to find supplies, and food. Midorima turned back to her wounded, her bones aching.

A woman with injuries at least as bad as Kagami’s gave Midorima a hard look. She still wore the dragon-and-red of Momoi’s banner. “You killed the queen.”

“That witch was no queen,” Kagami muttered.

Midorima picked debris from a gash on the woman’s arm. “I did what I had to,” she replied. “I will not argue with you about what is done.”

The woman glowered toward the corpse of the dragon. “I suppose I should thank you for that lizard.”

“You should thank Kise,” Midorima replied.

“What is Aominecchi thanking me for?” Kise asked, thunking the water bucket down next to Midorima. Midorima did not miss the cold look that Kise gave Aomine.

“Still with the -cchi,” Aomine said, still glaring at the dragon.

Kise looked to Midorima. “It was Aominecchi who taught me how to wield a sword. She was captain of the guard, before all this.”

_Is there no one in this castle whose name she doesn’t know?_ Midorima found a clean rag, and began to wash Aomine’s wounds.

“What are we going to do about the dragon corpse?” Aomine asked.

“Is it ‘we,’ now?” Kise asked. “I seem to remember you tried to kill me when Momoi called for my head.”

That silenced Aomine. Midorima looked up. “But what are we going to do?”

“My main concern is rebuilding the castle, but...” Kise looked at the dragon thoughtfully. “We’ll take it to the forest. Perhaps there is someone who wants it.”

#

“I knew kings who would have kept the dragon’s skull to display in their throne room.” Night had fallen several hours before, but Midorima had only just finished her rounds, checking on the wounded, bringing water and food. Tents had been put up inside the walls, and Kise’s pavillion was more lavish than anything either of them had had in ages.

A real bed, and a real roof, not just a bedroll at the base of a tree.

Fires dotted the courtyard, around which several people were eating their suppers, or celebrating. The castle grounds would not be quiet that night.

“I’d rather not have a reminder.” Kise poured two glasses of wine, and patted the edge of the bed she was sitting on. Midorima joined her, exhaustion seeping through her every vein. She took a long swallow of wine and sighed, closing her eyes. Kise’s head rested on Midorima’s shoulder. Her hair smelled of smoke. “I just want to be a good queen.”

Midorima turned, her lips brushing over Kise’s hair. “You will be.” Her chest ached.

Kise shifted so that she was looking at Midorima, their noses almost touching. Midorima put her wine aside, afraid she would drop it because her hands were shaking. Kise brushed a stray hair from Midorima’s face, and leaned in, so much surer than Midorima was.

Midorima’s fingers traced the curve of Kise’s cheek, down to her throat. The kiss was slow as honey, and when they parted Kise sighed, tucking her face into the crook where Midorima’s throat joined her shoulder. “Stay with me tonight,” she whispered.

Midorima wrapped her arms around Kise, pressing her face into Kise’s hair. “I’ll stay,” she murmured, her heart pounding. “I’ll stay.”

#

Spring came slowly, the winter gradually withdrawing its claws, and the birds returning.

Kise was crowned queen in the ruins of her castle, where rebuilding had only just begun. The stone no longer gave Midorima headaches--the magic that had been so saturated throughout the castle had begun to dissipate.

Midorima had been careful to investigate what parts of the castle remained standing, finding what hidden defenses Momoi had left behind, and undoing her spells. There would be no more stone monsters, no more bending of the very castle walls to anyone’s will.

Stone was only stone.

As for the guards and those who had supported Momoi, many rejoined Kise’s new castle guard, donning her banner of a unicorn on a field of green. Some left, of their own choosing, and Kise allowed them to go.

Aomine stayed.

Midorima did not know what everyone else thought of this, but she did note that Kise seemed relieved, even happy.

On a night where a last weak snow was falling (the kind that would have melted away by noon the next day) Kise and Midorima sat around the fire with some others, sharing a roast and bread that bordered on stale, washed down with warm beer.

“Your injuries have healed well, Kagami,” Midorima observed. “I expected more scarring.”

Kagami shrugged, and looked pleased. “Tough hide, I guess.” She moved her left arm, the one that had been broken in the battle. “Still a bit stiff, but better.”

“How long are you staying?” Kiyoshi asked, pouring a cup for Mitobe. “We could use a healer like you around.”

Midorima took a sip. She didn’t have to look to know that Kise’s eyes were on her, to know that everyone was eager to hear. “As long as I’m needed,” she murmured. “As long as I’m wanted.” She poured out the last of her cup. “But there are a few things I need to do, first.”

#

Hanamiya would not look Midorima in the eye. Would not say anything except to sneer or mutter a curse, and Midorima did not expect any more.

This was only the first visit she meant to make, and she had not wanted it to last long.

#

Midorima’s wards had not budged since she left this castle. The place still stood, still overrun with feral cats. She had insisted on coming alone, which Kise had not liked one bit--but the young queen had other pressing concerns in rebuilding her kingdom, and Midorima could handle her own business.

She watched it from the trees, observing how the icicles had melted away, and how only in the shadiest corners did patches of snow remain. A flock of birds wheeled about the castle, calling to each other.

Stepping through the gates, she saw that the grass had already begun to grow, now halfway up her calves.

Staff held tight, Midorima crossed the grounds to the doors. She felt like a stranger there, as she had when she first arrived. A few months away had undone a century’s familiarity.

Her footsteps echoed through the corridors as she walked, running her fingertips over bare stone. She could already feel the thin tendrils of something new, something not her own.

Midorima smiled.

“That was clever, Midorima,” a voice said. “I expected you to try to kill me.”

“I thought you would leave,” Midorima replied, looking up. “There were no spells to keep anything inside.”

Momoi stood by one of the broad windows, stroking a sleek white cat. “If Kise knew I was alive, she would ask for my head.”

Midorima laughed. “You don’t really know her at all, do you?”

Momoi gave Midorima a sharp look.

“She knows,” Midorima murmured. “I told her what I meant to do, before we even reached the castle. Do you know how many times she told me that you raised her?”

Momoi looked out the window, over the trees. “You did this for her.”

Midorima turned. “I only came for my books.”

“I was impressed at your library,” Momoi said. “A century’s studies. Your time in solitude was busy, I see.” She scratched the cat behind the ears. “I suppose you expect me to keep my distance from Kise.”

“I would hope that you know when to accept defeat.” Midorima gazed at her, wondering how best to go about saying it. “Imayoshi is--”

“They’re dead, I know. They would never have let you survive, if they had breath left in them.” Momoi did not look at Midorima. “What did you do with the body?”

“Hanamiya came to collect it.”

“The Spider Witch?” Momoi’s voice was bemused. “What was Imayoshi to her?”

“I would’ve thought you’d know--but perhaps you’re not as familiar with that age as I thought.” Midorima turned down a corridor to begin collecting her books. She had a wagon for them, just inside the gates. “You may stay here as long as you wish. No one will bother you, if you keep to yourself.”

Momoi laughed softly, and began to follow Midorima. “If I live a hundred years in solitude, as you did? And why should I do that?”

“A hundred years gives one space to think,” Midorima replied. “Perhaps it will do you good. But of course, no one is making you stay.”

“And is that why you chose it?”

Midorima did not answer her.

Momoi studied her for a moment. “You’re truly devoted to the princess.”

“She’s queen, now, as you well know.” Midorima drew her fingers along the spines of her books. She felt as if she had forgotten how many there were--as if she herself couldn’t believe how much she had done in a hundred years.

“You intend to stay with her.” Momoi laughed. “And what will you do as she grows old, Midorima? Will you watch her fade? Or do you intend to die with her?”

Midorima drew her hand back from the shelves, turning to look at Momoi. She regarded the dusty library, the evidence of her years spent alone. “I have lived a very long time,” she murmured. “More than I daresay I had a right to. But I am glad that I chose it.”

She looked at her books again. Stars, there were so many. “I don’t know the world anymore. But I’d like to know it again.

“It’s a curious thing, isn’t it?” Midorima looked at Momoi. “We draw on this power that we’re born with for seemingly no reason at all--and the heavens let us live as long as please. Doesn’t seem quite fair, does it?”

“I don’t much care about fairness, these days,” Momoi said. She watched Midorima with wary eyes. “But you really do mean to die with her.”

“I’ve lived long enough.” Midorima shrugged. “Kise is not the first woman I’ve stood beside. But I think I should like her to be the last.”

Momoi laughed softly, shaking her head. “For a woman who ran with Akashi, you are nothing that I expected.”

“Then you know very little about either I or Akashi.” Midorima looked round her library once more. “I’ve changed my mind. You can keep my books, if you wish. I’ll have time enough to write a few more, I think.” Midorima picked up her staff, and touched the walls once more. The tendrils of magic recoiled from her.

Midorima smiled. “Didn’t you learn from the last time, Momoi?”

Momoi would not look at her. “If you truly mean to stay with Kise, then you won’t be needing this place.”

Midorima nodded. “I should have liked to know you better.”

Momoi scoffed. “Go back to your queen. I imagine she’s missing you.”

#

“Your Majesty, please stop fidgeting,” Kuroko said, pinning Kise’s hair into place.

“I’m sorry, Kurokocchi, I just--I’m anxious.” Kise watched the window, watched the birds flitting past. “You don’t think she’ll be late, do you?”

“Not for you, Your Majesty.”

Kise smiled. “I’m so glad spring is finally here,” she murmured. A warm breeze stirred the room, carrying the smell of spring rain and apple blossoms. Kise closed her eyes, drawing it all in.

Kuroko finished her work on Kise’s hair, all held together with jeweled hairpins that glittered in the sunlight. “You’re ready, Your Majesty.”

Kise opened her eyes and stood,  studying her reflection in the mirror. She ran her hands over the delicate white lace of her dress, the pearls that gleamed on her bodice. She touched the emeralds at her throat, and smiled. “Not quite, Kurokocchi.”

Kise picked up a shawl, that shimmered as she drew it around her shoulders. She had watched Midorima make it, in the evenings when she had no more work to do for the day. She had watched Midorima carefully placing all the threads in only the firelight, her head bent in concentration so deep that if Kise touched her arm she would jump, startled.

She’d almost cried when Midorima gave it to her.

There was a knock on the door to Kise’s chambers. The castle was not yet entirely rebuilt, but the living quarters had been the first to be completed. “Your Grace,” Aomine said. “Midorima has returned.”

Kise smiled. “Will you go see her, Kurokocchi?”

Kuroko nodded and slipped out of the room. Kise laughed and spun, her skirt and shawl billowing. She went to the window, to look down at the gates, spying Midorima down in the square. The breeze stirred again, sweet and soft, stirring the banners.

Kise closed her eyes, smiling at the blue sky, with its fat white clouds.

#

Midorima felt a little out of sorts, surrounded by other women and draped in more fineries than she knew what to do with.

She stared at the mirror before her, at the way the pale blue fabric fit her, at the opals at her ears, at the bare stretch of her throat that she had never given much thought to before. Midorima let out a breath, wondering why she didn’t recognize her own reflection.

“You look beautiful,” Kiyoshi told her, smiling.

“Not as much as she does, I’m sure,” Midorima replied. She touched the mirror, trying to regain a sense of herself. Stars above, did she really look like that?

She had never thought she could look elegant.

“Hurry now,” Riko said, “or you’ll be late.”

Midorima turned away from the mirror. She felt as if she might burst--from excitement or apprehension or both. She was afraid--terrified, even--that this might all be just a dream. What if she woke up and all of this--everything from the night Kise had asked her to stay till now, with this dress and these jewels--was just something she’d imagined?

She didn’t think she could bear it.

The air was warm and clear, hinting at the summer to come. Midorima’s retinue led her across the grounds, to where garlands of flowers covered everything, and music was being played.

Midorima saw Kise, and felt her heart stop.

Kise had her back to Midorima, her golden hair all in loops around her head, shining as if she were a child of the sun. Her dress was as white as the clouds, and dotted with diamonds and pearls that sparkled.

As if feeling her gaze, Kise turned, spying Midorima. She smiled so brightly, and tears came to her eyes. “Midorimacchi!” Kise crossed the distance between them, throwing her arms around Midorima and hugging her so tightly that Midorima struggled for breath.

Midorima closed her eyes, returning the tight hug, breathing in the smell of Kise’s perfume. No dream, no dream at all. She could feel Kise’s tears against her shoulder.

Kise straightened up a little to whisper in Midorima’s ear. “I thought you said you’d have nothing to do with quests.”

Midorima laughed, laying her forehead on Kise’s shoulder. “Don’t make me lock you in a tower,” she murmured.

“Don’t be silly. No one locks queens in towers.”

Midorima turned her head, pressing her lips to Kise’s. “You look so beautiful.”

Kise smiled, touching her forehead to Midorima’s. “So do you.” She kissed Midorima again. “Ready to be married?” She smiled.

Midorima laughed, the sun warming her back. “Absolutely,” she murmured.

#

The wedding was not without its audience. The entire celebrated their two queens, having parades, and a feast wherever there was food and drink to be found. They sang songs of their conquering queens, the one who slew a dragon, and the other who defeated a witch.

Around a pond that shone like glass, a mage that flickered in and out of shadows, and a great bear as large as a house watched, perhaps a little surprised, but perhaps not.

In a castle deep in a forest where no one ever ventured, a witch sat with mirror in hand, deep in thought.

Midorima could feel the prickle of the watching. She could feel it, and she did not mind.

For she also felt Kise’s hand over her own, and the warm sun on her hair, and a breeze that said no winter lasted forever.

Spring would always come.

 


End file.
